Beaters Will Beat
by crochetaway
Summary: This collection will contain all of my entries into the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I'm Beater 1 for the Pride of Portree.
1. Gifts

**This is my entry into the QLFC Season 6, Round 2. Beater 1 for Pride of Portree. The theme this week was Jurassic Fever, and my prompt was -** **Mosasaur: Write a story set near the water (such as The Black Lake, the cave Riddle hid his Horcrux in, Shell Cottage, etc.)**

 **My options prompts were: (colour) light grey and (setting) the Forbidden Forest.**

 **In canon, Pandora Lovegood does not have a maiden name. I have given her the name of Pandora Boot for purposes of this story, and placed her two years ahead of the Marauders.**

 **Word Count: 1,561**

 **Brilliant, huge, beta-love goes to my fellow Pride teammates: Story Please, sekdaniels, Le soleil brille pas pour toi. Thank you!**

* * *

 **Gifts**

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Huffing, Pandora Boot hiked her way through the thick undergrowth of the Forbidden Forest. It was her favorite pastime, and since she was in her final year at Hogwarts, she had vowed to herself to take advantage as often as she could. Pandora often had difficulty in the shared dorms of Ravenclaw tower. She had the dual gift and curse of both the second sight and Empathic abilities. The Sight was easier for her to control, particularly after the Divination professor had recognized her for what she was. Her Empathic powers, however, were only controllable when Pandora was alone. This was one of the many reasons she often found herself in the Forbidden Forest.

Coming to a clearing, Pandora stopped; on the far side was a lone unicorn foal, sniffing flowers and then moving to chase a butterfly. She smiled at the sight. The unicorn was silver, and his horn was still golden. Sunlight streamed through the trees intermittently making the unicorn appear a dappled grey color. The young unicorn danced around the clearing, and the view of it filled Pandora's heart with happiness.

 _This_ was what she loved about the Forbidden Forest. Calling it Forbidden made it sound so foreboding, and yet it wasn't. Not at all. Pandora held out her hand as the unicorn trotted toward her. The foal sniffed her hand, then promptly sneezed and scared itself. Pandora smiled at his antics, and when he started trotting through the undergrowth, she decided to follow him.

Generally, Pandora avoided any clear paths in the forest and made her way through the underbrush, often taking an animal track instead of a human-forged trail. As she followed the unicorn, with the golden sunlight filtered through the trees, Pandora could almost believe she was the only human ever to enter this sacred place. Closing her eyes and breathing deeply, Pandora locked all of her dark thoughts away for the afternoon. Being outside, in nature, was always her happy place and she was determined to enjoy it.

When she opened her eyes, the unicorn was gone, and she was standing on the edge of a small pond. Pandora frowned. That pond hadn't been there a moment ago, and there was something odd about it. It was tiny, almost a large puddle, but overgrown and choked on the far end with weeds. She pulled her wand out, just to be safe, and then knelt down, peering into the water.

There was a break in the trees overhead, and as Pandora looked down into the murky grey water, the sun shone brilliantly back at her, almost blindingly. Frowning, Pandora reached a hand out, almost touching the water, before something made her pull back. Her grandmother had told her of _walking ponds_ before. The sudden appearance of this pond, made her wonder if that's what this was. According to her grandmother, walking ponds only appeared in times of great need. Pandora didn't think she was in any sort of dire need, but perhaps someone else was? Strange, to be sure, but Pandora was a witch. The Wizarding World was a strange and wondrous place.

Decided, she stood and stepped forward, splashing into the shallows of the pond. There was a swirl of magic, and suddenly she felt like she was being turned inside out and squeezed through a tube. It felt a bit like Apparition and a bit like traveling via Portkey at the same time. She whirled through space so quickly she didn't even have the chance to scream. When she landed, it was flat on her back, and her breath was knocked out of her. Pandora gasped for a moment until she recovered. When she finally did, she sat up slowly and looked around. The sun ducked behind a cloud, tinging the sky a light grey. She wasn't surprised to find herself in the shallows of a lake. The magic of a walking pond was in its water.

The landing had rattled her, and she felt somewhat dizzy. Slowly, she came to kneel, and that's when she realized she wasn't alone. Sitting on a rock several feet down the lake was a boy. Pandora cocked her head; there was something familiar about him.

Pandora stood and glanced around. If she wasn't mistaken, she was in Black Lake, just a few miles from where she had been in the Forbidden Forest, which extended to this side of the lake and was at her back. Not such a far jump via the walking pond she'd stumbled across. Relief flooded her when she spied Ravenclaw tower in the distance. Turning her gaze back to the boy, she studied him.

He had black hair that fell to his shoulders and was thin. His clothing was not new, and the black of his robes was faded to a dull grey. His shoulders shook, and Pandora's heart thudded when she realized he must be crying. She felt a weight settle heavily in her chest at seeing the boy's obvious distress. The grief poured off him in waves that threatened to overwhelm Pandora. Hogwarts was confusing enough, with all of the teenage hormones, but rarely did she come across someone with such a depth of despair like this.

Pandora sighed and ran a hand through her wet hair. Realizing, she was still standing in the lake, Pandora walked the few feet to the shore and set about drying herself. When she'd completed the chore, the boy was still sitting on his rock. Desperation was still seeping off of him. She couldn't leave him here. He looked to only be a fifth year and a small one at that. She didn't feel like she was very good with people, but the walking pond had brought her here for a reason. So she walked the few yards to reach the rock outcropping and scrambled up them. Sitting directly next to him, she brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

"Leave me alone," he muttered through his tears, never raising his face. Pandora still wasn't sure who he was, but she could make out a Slytherin tie. Pursing her lips, Pandora chose to continue sitting next to the boy in silence. Perhaps he'd get used to her presence after a time. Maybe just being next to him would offer some sort of comfort. She hoped so, although the anguish rolling off of him had not lessened.

Close to thirty minutes later, the boy finally looked up, and Pandora got a look at his face for the first time. She had laid her head on her knees and had been gazing up at him. He had a hooked nose, and his eyes were red from crying.

"What do you want?" He sneered at her but didn't move.

"You were sad," Pandora replied. "Unimaginable sorrow was pouring off of you."

The boy narrowed his eyes at her and spat, "I don't need your help!"

Pandora shrugged."Perhaps not, however, something thought you might."

She gazed into his eyes and then felt her own cloud over as a vision swam before her. The vision spat out scene after scene of the boy in front of her becoming a man and joining a group of men all dressed in black with silver masks. Moments filled with blood and gore flashed before her eyes, and Pandora felt nauseous at what she was seeing. The scenes moved on too quickly for Pandora to parse them. Then suddenly, they stopped, and she saw the boy, older now, almost a man. He was crying in her vision too; clutching a pretty red-headed woman's body to his chest. There was only sorrow and grief in his future.

The boy shook Pandora's arm hard, and she felt the vision swim away. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and felt deep, profound heartache and loneliness on behalf of the boy.

"Tread carefully," Pandora whispered. "You know not what your future holds, but I see great desolation for you."

The boy stared at her, his face hardening, and Pandora sighed. He wouldn't heed her warning. His future was already set in stone.

"I don't need this," the boy muttered and stood quickly, stumbling his way down the rocks and hustling away from Pandora and back toward the castle, wiping his face as he went.

Pandora turned back to the lake as her tears made their way down her face. Sometimes she hated her gifts. She cried for the boy and the pain he would endure. She cried for herself and how ineffectual her gifts could be. And though the sunlight filtered through the cloud it still hid behind, turning everything a pretty light grey, Pandora could not enjoy it.

Instead, she cried for the horrors she'd just witnessed. Had the boy only listened to her, listened to the universe that had sent her to him, maybe the future wouldn't look so grim right now. It was apparent to Pandora that the walking pond that had appeared had been placed there by some higher power, drawing her to the boy. She wondered who he was and why he was going to be so crucial to the future. Sighing as a soft breeze kicked up off the lake, Pandora knew she'd find out soon enough.

The Wizarding World was about to become a lot scarier than it had ever been before.


	2. Ash

**A/N: This is my entry into the QLFC Season 6, Round 3. Beater 1 for Pride of Portree. The theme this week was 90's Nostalgia, and my prompt was:** **Hey Now (Girls Just Wanna Have Fun) — Cyndi Lauper.**

 **My optional prompts were: (dialogue) "Pay attention to me.", (location) London Underground, and (object) glitter.**

 **There wasn't a Clash concert in the summer of '77, so I made one up to fit my story. There were plenty of Clash concerts in the spring and fall of '77 which I've used as inspiration for this fic. Also, this is slightly AU in the fact that canon tells us Lily didn't start falling for James until their seventh year and this story takes place the summer before their seventh year.**

 **Word Count: 2,240**

 **Brilliant, huge, beta-love goes to my fellow Pride teammates:** **Litfreak89, sekdaniels, Story Please** **. Thank you!**

 **Summary: Lily takes the Marauders to a Clash concert during summer hols before their 7th year.**

* * *

 **Ash**

* * *

 **July 1977**

"That was bloody awesome!" Sirius Black announced to his friends as he slumped into a grimy seat on the London Underground. "I mean, did you see the way Strummer handled that guitar? Be still my heart!"

Lily Evans snorted at Sirius' antics. "I don't think Strummer swings that way."

Sirius scoffed, "It's not like that, Lils. The man is a freakin' genius. You have to admit that."

"He's good. But Mick Jones? Whew, now there's someone I'd drop my knickers for." Lily smirked at the affronted look on James Potter's face.

"What? That tosser?" James scowled. "He's not even that good looking. Not like me, anyway." James ruffled a hand through his hair and almost fell over as the train lurched forward. He was always attempting to get Lily to pay attention to him. She found it hilarious and made a game of ignoring him as much as possible to rile him.

"Better hold on there, Prongs," Remus Lupin grinned, grabbing his friends arm and holding him upright.

"Girls just wanna have fun, you know?" Lily winked at James.

"I can show you how to have fun," James suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.

Peter Pettigrew giggled at his friend's antics, and Lily found herself shaking her head at them all. She'd surprised the boys with tickets to see The Clash at the end of the school year. Sirius and Pete were diehard fans, both ever glad to break the pure-blood mold for some Muggle entertainment. And Remus and James were fans by association. She'd planned the whole evening because she knew the four of them would be hopeless in getting through Muggle London without her help.

Not that Lily was altogether too familiar with Muggle London, but she'd been a few times and had come prepared with a map.

"Don't get too comfortable," Lily told them. "We're changing trains in two stops at King's Cross St Pancras."

"Yeah, yeah," Sirius nodded. He was currently humming the White Riot song, and playing the drumbeat on his thighs.

Lily shook her head, trying to get all of the glitter out of her hair. There had been some ninny behind her with an entire bag of the stuff and had tossed generous handfuls of it into the air during the whole concert. Lily had never seen so much glitter in her life and knew that she would be finding it for months to come.

"I'll help," James murmured and began running his fingers through her hair.

"Really, James. I can do it myself," Lily replied, a blush heating her cheeks.

"Kings Cross St Pancras. This is Kings Cross St Pancras," a stiff posh voice announced as the train began to slow.

"That's us!" Lily jumped up, pulling away from James' hands.

The train lurched to a hard stop and Lily would have fallen had Remus not caught her.

"Seems to be my role tonight," Remus joked as Lily stepped off the train. She tossed a grin over her shoulder to him as she waved the rest of the group forward.

"You're shedding," Pete giggled, then reached out and fluffed Lily's hair. He wasn't wrong; just that small action had glitter falling from her tresses.

"This is the worst. If I ever find out who that idiot with the glitter was, I'm going to hex her," Lily complained.

"No hexing the Muggles, love," James reminded her, throwing an arm around her waist.

"Although, for the crime of glitter, maybe she deserves it," Sirius muttered as he tried to wipe some of the fallen glitter off his hands only to discover his black denims covered in the stuff. "This stuff is awful."

A train whooshed past them going in the opposite direction, taking sprinkles of glitter from Lily's hair with it.

"Our train should be up next," Lily said consulting both her map and her watch. "We have a few more stops on that one."

"This is exciting," Pete grinned.

Sirius rolled his eyes, "It's just a reverse of the trip we went on when we came down for the concert, Pete."

"Still, I haven't been around Muggles this much," Pete replied, looking around eagerly. It was late though, and the station was mostly empty. Only a few other late-night partiers were about. Lily couldn't help but grin at Pete's amusement with Muggles and the way they got around.

"Honestly, I think it beats Apparition," James replied. "I always want to sick up after I Apparate."

"Yeah, well Apparition is faster, though," Sirius countered.

"Boys, hush," Lily admonished when a large group of people dressed in the punkiest clothes Lily had ever seen settled at a bench near them.

"They were at the concert too!" Sirius exclaimed, pointing to the group. "Think they're going to an afterparty?"

"An afterparty? Sirius, it's nearly one in the morning!" James complained. "I'm bloody exhausted."

"Let's ask, shall we?" Pete grinned at Sirius.

"Boys," Lily warned. She didn't want them wandering off. She felt responsible for them in some ways. Yes, they were of age, but they didn't know or understand Muggles or Muggle culture that well.

"Try to be less of a mother to us, yeah, Lils?" Sirius tossed over his shoulder as he and Pete walked over to the other group.

"Ugh, he is impossible," Lily commented and followed behind. She knew James and Remus would stick with her, but she wasn't at all that confident that Sirius and Pete wouldn't get lost and do something stupid without her there to watch over them.

"There she is!" James exclaimed from behind Lily when she was only a pace or two from the group.

"Who?" Lily asked, confused.

"The girl with the glitter, look at them."

Lily craned her neck and could see just over Sirius' left shoulder that there were a couple of girls back there absolutely drenched in glitter. Even worse than Lily had been.

"Ridiculous," Lily snorted. "Who brings glitter to a punk concert anyway?"

"Who are you to say what is and isn't punk?" One of the girls had overheard Lily and responded in a snotty tone.

"Woah, no fights, yeah?" Sirius smiled charmingly at the other girls. "Any magic tricks on how to get the glitter out?"

Lily felt her lips thin at the mention of magic. She knew Sirius was joking, but she didn't really relish a visit from someone in the Ministry if somehow things went belly up. The group seemed friendly enough. Pete was talking to a short guy with a mohawk and a ring through his nostrils. They were smiling, which Lily took that to be a good sign.

Remus was chatting up one of the girls, this one had a very short skirt on, and her makeup was colorful to the point of almost being too much, in Lily's opinion.

"Where you headed?" one of the boys asked her.

"Aldgate. We're staying at an inn near there," Lily explained.

"Mark," the boy stuck his hand out. Lily grinned and shook it.

"Lily."

The train came then, and Lily and her friends, along with the others from the concert, piled inside. Someone in the other group had a boombox and a cassette of The Clash's latest album. The train car they had piled into was soon emptied of other passengers as the group continued the party. The music was loud to the point of reverberating around the carriage, and everyone was dancing.

Someone tugging on Lily's hair got her attention; she whirled around to find James sulking at her.

"Pay attention to me," he insisted, pulling Lily from where she had been dancing with Mark and glitter-girl, who she'd found out was named Heather. James pulled her further down the carriage, attempting dance with her.

"James," Lily said, pleadingly. "Can't we just have fun?"

"Aren't we?" James pouted.

"Aldgate. This is Aldgate," a tinny announcement stated. Lily barely heard it over the blare of music.

"This is us," she told James. "Grab Sirius; I'll get Remus and Pete." She turned from James and headed back into the group dance that was taking place near the center of the carriage.

"This is us!" Lily shouted to Remus, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at the door. The train slowed to a stop, and Lily pushed Remus through the door, grabbing Pete with her other hand.

It turned out that the party decided to follow them. The rest of the concertgoers poured out of the carriage too. Mark slung an arm over her shoulders.

"Sirius invited us back for an afterparty at your hotel," Mark grinned down at her. Lily's eyes widened. She ducked out of Mark's grasp and turned in her spot, looking for Sirius. He had an arm thrown over Heather and some other girl.

"Sirius Orion Black!" Lily shouted at him, hitting him in the stomach.

"Woah, chill out. We can share," Heather leered at her.

Lily glared at the trio as Sirius chuckled. "You invited them back to our hotel?" Lily asked through gritted teeth. "The Leaky Cauldron?"

"What the hell kinda hotel is called 'The Leaky Cauldron'?" Mark asked, slinging his arm around Lily's shoulders once more.

"A bad one," James said morosely. "More of a hole in the wall really. No way you fine chaps would want to go there."

"I'm going where he goes," Heather stated, cuddling further into Sirius' side.

"Merlin, you all will be the death of me," Lily groaned. "I just wanted to have some fun tonight."

"You didn't have fun?" James asked, picking more glitter out of her hair and shoving Mark out of the way.

Lily sighed, "I was having a blast until that tosser decided to invite a bunch of Muggles into a wizarding establishment. There's like ten of them. How are we supposed to ditch them before we get to the Leaky?"

"We could pretend to get lost?" Pete suggested. "The area around the Leaky is pretty desolate, especially at night. If we can't find our hotel, maybe they'll decide to skive off."

"I guess it'll do," Lily replied. "Let's go."

It was only a few blocks from Aldgate station to the Leaky Cauldron, and the group made it there in no time.

"Now what?" Lily muttered, looking around, acting like she wasn't quite sure where they were.

Suddenly, the door to the Leaky Cauldron exploded outward, and half a dozen people dressed in black wizarding robes exited. They all had silver masks on, and Lily felt the blood drain from her face. She'd seen photos of people dressed like this in the _Daily Prophet_. These were Death Eaters. What were they doing here?

"Muggles!" one of the Death Eaters shouted and drew his wand.

"Shit!" Lily shouted, drawing her wand. "Remus, James! Wands up!"

"Form a circle, surround the Muggles!" Sirius shouted, suddenly shoulder to shoulder with Lily.

The five teenagers formed a circle around the ten concert going Muggles they had accidentally lured into this trap.

"They won't be aiming to harm us, Lils," James whispered to her from her other side.

"I know that," Lily snapped. " _Expulso_!" She slashed her wand, and a beam of blue light hit the closest Death Eater, and he went flying back into another Death Eater, bowling them both over.

" _Bombarda_!" Sirius shouted to her left, and the street in front of a beefy Death Eater exploded into a shower of rubble.

They were doing their best to hold off the Death Eaters, and they weren't completely outmatched, although the Death Eaters knew nastier spells by far. They'd already gotten at least one of the Muggles down. Lily just hoped that he wasn't dead. She wasn't sure she could live with herself if a Muggle got killed because of her stupidity.

The door to the Leaky Cauldron burst open once more, and this time a dozen Aurors in magenta robes flowed out of it. Lily had never been so thankful in her life. She'd almost collapsed with relief when the Death Eaters began Apparating away. She turned back to the Muggles as quickly as she could and found that it was Heather who'd been hit.

"Girls just wanna have fun, you know?" Heather coughed weakly, blood trickling from her mouth.

"Yeah, I know," Lily said and began healing what she could.

"Those Muggles?" a gruff voice from behind her inquired, but Lily tuned him out. She concentrated on healing Heather to the best of her abilities. How could a night of fun and partying turn out so horrifically? Lily wasn't sure she would ever understand. It was then that she realized Heather wasn't the only one hurt. Further back, Mark lay flat on the pavement not moving.

"Oh, no," Lily moaned and staggered to her feet. James caught her by the waist.

"There's nothing you can do, Lils," James breathed into her ear, shuffling more glitter loose from her hair. "He's gone."

"No, no, no no no," Lily cried. Tears were streaking through her makeup. It was her fault. She'd allowed the Muggles to follow them here. If only they'd walked in the other direction, they would have never been around the entrance to Diagon Alley.

"Shh," James comforted her. Little comfort it was to have blood on her hands. All the glitter looked like ash now, and Lily knew she'd never forget how quickly life could turn sour. The war that had been coming was here, and Lily was going to fight.


	3. Eternity

**A/N: This is my entry into the QLFC Season 6, Round 5. Beater 1 for Pride of Portree. The theme this week was Borrowed Inspiration, and my prompt was: Use the title of a story written by your Beater 2 for inspiration. I chose _Ten More Minutes_ by the incomparable Litfreak89.**

 **My optional prompts were: (word) eternity, and (dialogue) "I should have told you sooner."**

 **This should be considered a crack!fic, so please don't take it too seriously, although it could possibly fit into the canon world.**

 **"(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" by The Rolling Stones, written by Keith Richards and Mick Jagger**

 **Song Lyrics w/c = 123**

 **W/C w/song lyrics = 1253**

 **W/C w/o song lyrics = 1130**

 **All of the beta love to my fellow Pride teammates: Story Please and sekdaniels**

 **Summary: There's only one person Hermione wants to spend eternity with.**

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 **Eternity**

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"I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no satisfaction. 'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try. I can't get no, I can't get no…" Hermione stared dumbfounded at Antonin Dolohov as he began serenading her with an old Rolling Stones song. She shook her head and found she was in a nightclub. There was a stage in front of her, with a catwalk coming from the center of it. She was sitting in a club chair and found a drink in her hand. Hermione took a sip and relished the taste of a gin and tonic; she hadn't had one of those in months. She wore a beautiful black silk gown; running her fingers along the fabric and feeling the smooth weight of it made her shiver. Ginny was sitting next to her and Luna was on the other side. They appeared to be the only people in the club. Except for Antonin Dolohov, who was crooning out the Rolling Stones song, his eyes never leaving Hermione's face.

"When I'm drivin' in my car, and the man come on the radio. He's tellin' me more and more about some useless information. Supposed to fire my imagination…" Corban Yaxley had appeared, seemingly from nowhere, joining Dolohov on the stage. He too had a microphone and was singing the same ridiculous Muggle song.

"How do they even _know_ that song?" Hermione whispered.

"Shhh," Luna said from her left. Hermione whipped her head to the left to stare at her friend. She too was wearing a silky evening dress, this one a deep midnight blue that set off her silvery eyes. Hermione wasn't sure she'd ever seen Luna so dressed up before. She turned to Ginny on her other side to see she was wearing an emerald green silk number.

"What in the hell is going on?" Hermione asked herself. Ginny shushed her from her right. She turned and glared at her friend, but her focus was drawn back to the stage once more when Dolohov slid down the catwalk on his knees, holding his hand out to her.

Hermione shrank back in her chair away from him, but Ginny grabbed one arm and Luna the other, and they pulled her up, placing her left hand into Dolohov's outstretched hand. Dolohov yanked, and Hermione stumbled up the stairs to the catwalk.

"I can't get no, oh, no, no, no, hey, hey, hey. That's what I say. I can't get no satisfaction; I can't get no girl reaction…" Dolohov sang to her, his hand wrapped around her waist and he held her in a low dip. Hermione felt a pulse of arousal deep in her abdomen, and her eyes widened in fear. This had to be a dream. There was no way this was actually happening. She pinched her thigh through her dress, but she didn't wake up, and Dolohov's dark eyes bore into her own. He pulled her up from the dip and spun her out. The flare of Hermione's dress swung around her legs as she twirled on the stage and her heart beat faster in her chest. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins, and she wondered if she had her wand on her. She hadn't felt it in her thigh holster when she'd run her hands over her dress.

"When I'm ridin' 'round the world. And I'm doin' this, and I'm signin' that. And I'm tryin' to make some girl, who tells me. Baby, better come back maybe next week. Can't you see I'm on a losing streak?" Yaxley crooned to Luna, also pulling her onto the stage with them and twirling her around as Dolohov had done to Hermione.

Luna had a dreamy smile on her face, and Hermione looked on in horror as Luna reached up to plant a kiss on Yaxley's mouth.

" _Luna!_ " Hermione hissed at her friend. What would her husband say if he were to see that? Hermione shivered as Dolohov slithered his body down hers, dancing and grinding his hips into her. She didn't want it to feel as good as it did. It definitely shouldn't feel _good at all_. But it did, and Hermione couldn't stop the whimper from escaping her mouth. She was mortified when Dolohov looked at her with dreamy bedroom eyes.

"I should have told you sooner, love," Dolohov murmured as Yaxley finished out the song.

"Told me what sooner?" Hermione snapped at him as the music faded out and Ginny clapped her hands excitedly.

"That I want to spend the rest of eternity with you…" Dolohov trailed off and centered his gaze on her lips. Hermione tried to back away, but Dolohov's arm tightened around her waist. He brought the hand that had been holding a microphone up to cup her cheek, his dark eyes felt like they were peering into her soul and her breath caught in her throat. _Oh, Merlin, he's going to kiss me_ , Hermione thought as his eyes fluttered closed and his lips landed squarely on hers. She froze, not wanting to react, but when his lips began to move, she couldn't stop a sigh from leaving her and her mouth opening in response.

"Hermione," someone hissed in her ear. She tried to wave them off as she drank in Dolohov's sinful kiss.

"Hermione!" the person said louder.

Hermione broke from Dolohov regretfully, attempting to respond to whoever was disturbing them.

"No, not ten more minutes. You're already late!" the person shouted, and Hermione bolted up from the bed. She looked around to find Ron looking at her with concerned eyes and her cheeks heated in an embarrassed blush.

"You alright, love?" Ron asked, looking at her with concern.

Hermione nodded her head quickly. "Yes, yes I'm alright. It was just a dream," she whispered the last bit to herself. "Just a dream."

"What dream?" Ron asked. "Are your late-night cravings giving you nightmares again?"

Hermione chuckled and rubbed her rounded stomach. Rose had never given her such terrible cravings as the child she was currently carrying. The previous night she'd woken up with a craving for chocolate ice cream topped with pickles and peanut butter. When Ron had caught her in the kitchen at midnight, he'd turned green at seeing what she was scarfing down.

"Must be," Hermione commented lightly. She didn't want to tell Ron she'd had a sex dream about Dolohov. Merlin, that was embarrassing. And disgusting. Dolohov was old enough to be her father. An eternity with Dolohov? She shivered in disgust; pregnancy dreams were so weird. Not only was Dolohov dead, so very dead, so was Yaxley. They'd both been killed in the final battle, and she hadn't seen Luna in months.

The disgust from the dream was slowly wearing off, and Hermione realized that the arousal from the dream had settled heavily in her abdomen. She eyed her husband as he dressed quickly.

"How late are we?" she asked. When Ron turned to look at her, she lifted her brow and licked her bottom lip.

He groaned, "So late, love. I've got to get Rosie to school."

He leaned over her and kissed her hard and deep, then broke off the kiss and kissed his way to her ear. "Maybe meet me at the broom closet on the eighth floor at lunch, though?"

Hermione grinned slyly and nibbled on his earlobe. His hand was sliding along her full belly. "It's a date." Eternity with Dolohov was absurd. But eternity with Ron Weasley? That she could do.


	4. The Best One

**A/N: This is my entry into the QLFC Season 6, Round 6. Beater 1 for Pride of Portree. The theme this week was Month by Month, write about a character with a birthday in the month chosen by your team. My team chose January: Severus Snape, Lily Evans, Gilderoy Lockhart. I've chosen to write about Severus Snape.**

 **My optional prompts were: (word) estranged; (dialogue) "If you are going to breathe down my neck, at least have a mint."; and (word) barbarian.**

 **This is an AU in which Severus Snape lived after the Final Battle and continued on as Headmaster at Hogwarts. Also, Hermione Granger teaches at Hogwarts.**

 **W/C: 2,590**

 **All of the beta love to my fellow Pride teammates: Story Please and sekdaniels.**

 **Summary: Severus Snape has the most interesting birthday yet.**

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 **The Best One**

* * *

 _January 9_

Severus Snape had always hated his birthday. It was the worst day of the year for him. Well, perhaps not so bad as Christmas, but it came in a close second. As a child, his birthday was hardly recognized. And if it was, it was with a beating from his father for daring to grow older. The older Severus became, the more money had to be spent to keep him in clothes and food. The more money spent made Tobias resent his son with every fiber of his being. Severus did not have a happy childhood.

His first friend hadn't even known it was his birthday until their second year at Hogwarts. Lily hadn't bothered in all the years they knew each other before Hogwarts to ask. It's not like they went to the same school, so they didn't spend much time together during the winter months. Severus knew when her birthday was, of course, it was something he'd found out right away. He'd been thrilled to know they shared a birth month but had been too shy to ever come out and tell _her_ that. However, he always did manage to slip a handmade card through their mail slot for Lily's birthday each year before they both went off to Hogwarts.

The fact that Lily didn't know when Severus' birthday was only deepened their estrangement once it happened. It deepened Severus' resentment of her. It had taken many years for Severus to realize that being estranged from Lily wasn't entirely his fault. Some of the blame lay with Lily too. Severus shook his head, clearing himself of his morose thoughts. Lily was long dead, as was the Dark Lord, and Dumbledore, too. The Wizarding World was finally at peace.

He made his way toward the Great Hall for breakfast. Students weren't as terrified of him as they had been when he taught Potions, but none acknowledged him with much more than a nod of their heads. Severus expected that his birthday this year would go as unacknowledged as it did every other year. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Halfway through breakfast, the owl post came and with it, half a dozen owls landed before Severus. Each held a brightly colored missive. He scowled at them and glanced up and down the head table trying to figure out if one of his professors was the culprit. Nobody was paying him any attention. He swept his eyes along the four House tables and, similarly, didn't find anyone giving him any special attention from there either. He drew out his wand and Vanished the envelopes.

Or at least attempted to.

Instead of vanishing, they multiplied. Now there were a dozen and a half brightly colored envelopes scattered across the Head Table. He was starting to attract attention and heard a giggle from his left. He turned his head to find Professor Granger barely holding it together three seats away.

His glare provoked her into speaking, "They're from the Weasleys. Vanishing will do you no good, Headmaster."

"Then how do I get rid of them?" Severus hissed back.

"I'm sure you'll just have to open them," Minerva said from beside him. "It _is_ your birthday after all. Is it so strange for you to receive a few birthday cards?"

Severus sniffed; it _was_ strange. He couldn't recall the last time he received a birthday gift, let alone a card. Perhaps when Albus had still been alive?

Deciding to just get it over with, Severus picked up a lurid pink envelope. It read 'Headmaster Snape' on the outside. He opened it quickly and pulled out the card. Except it wasn't just a card. It was a card full of glitter. The moment the card was free of the envelope, glitter was everywhere. All over his half-eaten breakfast, in his teacup, in his lap, on his hands.

"What in the fu—"

" _Headmaster_!" Minerva snapped, cutting him off. He glanced up and about half the hall was empty and every eye was on him. He caught a titter of laughter from the Slytherin table and then another from the Gryffindor table. When he caught who was behind this, he was going to give them detention for the rest of the year no matter _which_ House it was!

With an angry swirl of his robes—which kicked up a cloud of glitter—he left the Great Hall and the rest of his birthday cards on the table to head back to his office. He needed to de-glitter himself before his first meeting of the day.

* * *

The glitter didn't come off. It was stuck as fast to him as his own hair. He was able to change his robes, but no amount of washing his hands removed the vile stuff from them. And soon he found it in his hair as well. He'd attempted to Vanish it from his robes, and just like the cards, it multiplied. This must also be a Weasley product. If he ever saw George Weasley again, he thought he might just have to murder him. Who came up with a product that was impossible to get rid of? And why would anyone buy it?

Severus' mood deteriorated throughout the day. The more people who saw him looking like a disco ball the more laughter followed him everywhere. He'd always hated to be laughed at. He skipped lunch in the Great Hall and settled in for a small repast at his desk when a knock sounded on the door to his office.

"Enter."

Professor Granger stood there with her hands full of the bright cards from earlier and a soft smile on her face.

"I thought I might find you here, Headmaster. May I come in?"

"Fine," Severus sighed, knowing she wasn't going to leave it alone. "But there better not be any more glitter in those." He indicated the armful of cards.

Professor Granger laughed. "I checked already. No more glitter. But it _is_ your birthday. You should open these. I can't believe we've worked together all these years and you never said anything."

Severus scowled. "I don't celebrate birthdays."

Granger tsked, "That's not even true. You celebrate each staff member's birthday when we have cake in the staff room. Especially if it's red velvet."

Severus felt his lips twitch involuntarily into a small smile. She wasn't wrong, he did enjoy red velvet cake. "I don't celebrate _my_ birthday," he amended.

"Well, you haven't before, but that doesn't mean we can't going forward," Granger grinned at him.

Severus lifted an eyebrow at her. "What exactly do you know about these birthday cards?" he asked as she settled them onto the desk between them.

"Why don't you just open them and find out?" Granger asked tilting her head to the side and cocking her own eyebrow in challenge.

"Will I find more Weasley products?"

"Indubitably."

Severus sighed, "Fine. Let's get this over with."

Granger's grin widened and she settled into one of the chairs in front of Severus' desk. He'd chosen hard-backed chairs in order to discourage visitors, but Granger was cheeky and transfigured hers into a squat leather club chair. He frowned at her and pulled a lime green envelope toward him. He tapped it with his wand, in an attempt to see if any innate magic would trigger whatever was hidden inside, but nothing happened.

Granger sat in her chair, her grin wide and her fingers drumming against her leg in anticipation. Once again, Severus got the feeling that she knew more about this than she was letting on. He sighed again and swiftly opened the envelope and pulled out the card. He flinched involuntarily, but the only thing in the envelope was the card. He opened it to find a gleaming birthday greeting. It was signed 'Albus Severus Potter.'

"Potter," Severus growled. Why was it always Potters who were a thorn in his side? He should have retired when the eldest Potter started at Hogwarts three years ago. Soon there would be three Potters. His heart raced just thinking about it. "Was he behind all of this?"

"I'm sure he had help," Granger commented lightly. "Why don't you open another one?"

Severus glared at her. That one at least didn't have glitter in it. Glitter was like a venereal disease; impossible to get rid of as he'd found out already.

"Why don't you tell me how to remove this infernal craft product from my skin?" Severus countered, leaning back in his chair.

Granger considered him for a moment, then nodded. "Once you open all of your birthday cards, I think I might have something that will help."

Severus scowled and pulled a tangerine-coloured envelope into his hands. He noticed that the pile seemed to have shrank and looked questioningly at Granger.

"The duplication charm is like leprechaun gold. When you try to Vanish it, it duplicates, but after a while, the duplication disappears."

Severus nodded; that was a clever trick. Perhaps Weasley wasn't completely useless. He didn't tap the tangerine envelope, instead, he ripped it open and pulled out the card and was hit in the face with a balloon. More balloons poured out of the envelope and soon his office was filled with balloons floating to the ceiling.

Granger had the nerve to giggle. Severus snatched his wand and pointed at a balloon, planning to Vanish it when Granger spoke again. "I wouldn't do that, sir. Same principle applies to the balloons, I expect."

Severus lowered his wand. "You seem to know an awful lot about Weasley products for a professor at my school."

"Well, I do correspond with George quite a bit. And I spent a lot of my time helping him after the war."

Severus opened the card from the tangerine envelope and was pleasantly surprised to see that it read 'Scorpius Draco Malfoy.' He and Draco had only grown closer as the years went on, especially after Lucius had passed. It was somewhat endearing to find that his godson's son sent him a birthday card. Although, he didn't appreciate the fanfare of it all.

The next card he picked up didn't have an envelope and Severus realized it was the card that was full of glitter from breakfast. He read the inscription and saw that it was signed 'Lorcan and Lysander Scamander.' He set it aside, glad he didn't have to teach either of them. If the Weasley twins were bad, the Scamander twins were worse. He grimaced and set the card aside then pulled a fuschia envelope to him with the tip of his finger.

"So, who has sent you all of these?" Granger asked, pointing to the last two.

"The Scamander twins and Scorpius Malfoy," Severus grunted and tapped the fuschia envelope with his wand. Nothing happened. He opened it quickly and pulled the card free from the envelope. So far, so good. Opening the card did nothing either, even though he had pulled back as far as he could, bracing himself for the worst. This card was signed 'Frank Longbottom,' which was the name of his Herbology Professor's son and only a first year.

"One left," Granger reminded him.

"Right, that one was from Longbottom." Granger nodded as if she expected that was the case.

The last envelope was a teal blue and Severus again tapped it with his wand. Nothing happened, so he assumed he was safe. He wasn't. The moment he opened the envelope crepe paper streamers of all colors shot out and began decorating his office. The hung themselves from the windows and shelves in brilliant patterns. He glowered at them and ripped out the card to see who this one was from, 'James Potter.'

"Well, that's all of them, and doesn't this look nice!" Granger grinned and eyed the rest of his colourful office. It wasn't that it didn't look nice; it was fine for a child's birthday party, but Severus was a middle-aged man.

"How long will these last?"

"Oh, I expect a week at least," Granger replied with a grin.

"And the glitter removal I was promised?"

Granger dug through her pockets and pulled out a small dark blue vial. "A little goes a long way, sir." Then she took her leave.

Severus sighed as he took in the office around him. He was annoyed with the decorations, the glitter most especially and hoped that Granger's tonic would work. Despite it all, a small smile flitted across his face. Students had taken the time to find out his birthday, although with Malfoy in the mix it wouldn't be that hard, and had sent him birthday cards. He'd never, ever received this many cards for a birthday in his life. Part of his cold, dead heart warmed ever so slightly.

* * *

By dinnertime, Severus was blissfully glitter-free and he stalked into the Great Hall in search of the assured ring-leader. He stood behind his target, not saying a word as the Great Hall quieted around them.

"If you are going to breathe down my neck, at least have a mint," Albus Potter spat, not bothering to turn around.

"Mr. Potter," Severus snarled and was delighted when Potter jumped and whirled in his seat.

"Headmaster Snape!" Potter squeaked. "Happy Birthday, sir."

Severus narrowed his eyes at the boy, trying to determine if he was being made fun of or not, but he couldn't tell. Malfoy was next to Potter and grinning at him, even though Potter looked as if he was hyperventilating. Severus was pleased that most of the students still found him intimidating despite being covered in glitter for most of the day.

"And which of you barbarians cooked up that little stunt from breakfast?"

"Er, I did, Uncle Severus," Malfoy spoke up. Severus narrowed his eyes at Scorpius for reminding him of the familial connection.

"That's not true, Scorp," Potter hissed. "It was my idea, Headmaster."

Severus rolled his eyes. How a Potter ever got into Slytherin, he had no idea.

"Detention with Hagrid," Severus snapped.

Potter practically wilted in front of him in disappointment and while Severus would never admit it to anyone, ever, he actually felt bad about it. Obviously, the boy had thought he had good intentions with the birthday cards, however much Severus didn't appreciate him. He'd just have to tell Hagrid to go easy on him.

"Both of you," he added, including Malfoy into it. "Report to Hagrid after dinner."

"Yes, sir," Malfoy responded. Potter didn't respond, he just looked dejected. Well, it wasn't Severus' responsibility to cheer the boy up.

He made his way to the Head Table and was mildly surprised to find Granger sitting in Minerva's place.

"Did you really have to give them detention, Headmaster?" Granger asked the moment he sat down.

"I cannot have children sending me prank birthday cards," Severus sniffed. "Dumbledore may have enjoyed that sort of thing, but I do not."

Granger sighed. "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am," Severus replied.

After dinner, Severus found Hagrid and informed him of the detention that he'd assigned. And suggested that perhaps Hagrid could have them feed the nifflers or something of the sort.

He did feel a little bad about assigning the detention, but heaven forbid if the same thing or worse happened next year. It would be chaos in the school, and he simply wouldn't have it. Overall, it hadn't been his worst birthday ever and as he laid down to sleep much later that night he rather thought it had been a fairly pleasant birthday. Perhaps even the best one he'd ever had.


	5. Knives 7

**A/N: This is my entry into the QLFC Season 6, Round 7. Beater 1 for Pride of Portree. The theme this week was Movies that Killed their Franchises. My movie was Scream 4 (2011).**

 **My optional prompts were: (location) Knockturn Alley and (dialogue) "Well, that did not go according to plan."**

 **I am taking great liberties with both birth dates and personalities of the nextgen kids.**

 **W/C: 2,350**

 **Beta love to my fellow Pride teammates: Story Please and sekdaniels.**

 **Summary: Rose's retribution against Scorpius doesn't feel as good as she expects.**

* * *

 **Kives 7**

* * *

Scorpius Malfoy knew that he shouldn't be here, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from following Serenity Fawley into the abandoned Potions classroom. Serenity smiled coyly at him from over her shoulder and Scorpius wrapped his arms around her body, holding her back to his chest and placing soft kisses along her neck.

"Mmm," Serenity moaned. "This is better than that Gryffindor trash, right, Scorp?"

"Don't talk about her," Scorpius said angrily. He loved Rose, truly he did. But how could he not indulge in the sweet fluff that was Serenity Fawley? She was gorgeous and willing to give it up, while Rose had yet to allow him to satiate that particular urge with her. A wave of guilt bubbled up, but Scorpius pushed it down. It was getting easier and easier as time went on. He continued his slow seduction of Serenity, all thoughts of his girlfriend up in Gryffindor Tower gone.

* * *

"I can't believe that bloody pig!" Rose Granger-Weasley shouted to her best friends Lorcan and Lysander Scamander. They were hidden away in a disused Charms classroom. It was unfortunate that both of her best friends were Sorted into Ravenclaw while Rose herself was a Gryffindor. Although, House rivalries weren't what they were in their parents time. Rose herself even had a Slytherin boyfriend— _ex_ -boyfriend—who was a Malfoy to boot. Rose growled and blasted apart a desk with her wand.

"Well," Lorcan said in his slow and thoughtful way, "perhaps we can exact revenge on Scorpius?"

"Serenity, too," Lysander added.

"And Maeve Finnegan, the slag!" Rose had never felt as angry as she did at that moment. How could Scorpius do this to her? She thought that they were in love! It wasn't necessarily Rose's fault that she wasn't quite ready for sex. And even if it was, if Scorpius really loved her, he wouldn't have cheated on her. He'd done it at least twice if the rumors were to be believed.

"You could cheat back?" Lorcan suggested.

Rose scrunched her face. "I think not. No, something more drastic needs to be done. Something with serious consequences for Scorpius."

"What if we took our inspiration from that movie we saw last week? What was it called again? _Stab 7_?"

"No, it was _Knives 7_. Yes, that might work," Rose said thoughtfully. The _Knives_ series was one of her favorite horror movie franchises. Some were hilariously terrible to watch, but entertaining nonetheless. As she recalled the plot, an idea began to form in her head. "Thank Merlin summer holidays are almost upon us. We'll be able to move about freely then. Here's what we need…"

* * *

Scorpius Malfoy wasn't the type to freak out over a few strange letters, but they were getting stranger by the day. The first one just said: _What is your favorite scary movie?_

This was a distinctly odd question to have been asked via owl. Movies in the wizarding world weren't _that_ common. In fact, the only people he knew who watched movies were the Potters and the Granger-Weasleys. He'd shown it to Albus first thing, but Albus had shrugged and said it must have been a prank.

Scorpius would have left it alone if he hadn't received another one. This time, the owl stuck around for a response. It was a generic barn owl, probably a post-owl. Even the owl was no help in trying to figure out who was pranking him. _Knives 2 & 3_—is what Scorpius had written. In truth, they were the only scary movies he'd ever seen. It's not like there was a Muggle cinema anywhere near Malfoy Manor. His father would probably have a conniption if Scorpius had asked for a Muggle television to be installed at the Manor.

Since he knew it wasn't Albus, that left one of Albus' siblings or Rose. He knew it wouldn't be Hugo, but the breakup between him and Rose had not been pleasant. Scorpius was still kicking himself for being stupid enough to get caught. His father wasn't too pleased either.

"Malfoys don't get caught, Scorp," Draco had scolded him.

Scorpius had nodded along but thought perhaps the better advice would have been to not cheat on his girlfriend. Getting caught had been dumb, but cheating in the first place was what had gotten him into this mess and Scorpius wasn't too stupid to realize that fact. Maybe it _was_ Rose sending him the letters. Was she pranking him because he cheated on her?

Although, as far as pranks went, it was a little lame. Rose was usually better at pranking than this. Scorpius tried to put it out of his mind, but then another owl arrived. This one just had a date, time, and location. Scorpius wasn't sure what to do, but he already knew he was going to go. Perhaps he'd get Albus to go with him. Besides, Knockturn Alley was pretty big. There was a chance they could hide, maybe Albus could borrow his dad's Invisibility Cloak, and check out what was going on before they showed themselves. Plan decided, Scorpius wrote to Albus.

* * *

Rose felt amped. She was equal parts nervous and excited. Her plan to turn Knockturn Alley into a murder arena had gone better than she would have thought possible when she and the Scamanders started it. Once she got her Uncle George on board though, it really came together. George was on the Alley Improvement Commission and because of that had a lot of sway. All of the businesses in this stretch of the Alley had gotten involved in Rose's plan, although they had no idea exactly what Rose was doing with it all. She did one last walk-through of the Alley and was extremely pleased with everything.

She'd set it up like a Muggle haunted house. It was one of those strange things Muggles did that wizards didn't have. Something Rose planned to use to her full advantage. There were a lot of jump scares, and she, Lorcan, Lysander, and George would have knives and chainsaws. And blood. Lots and lots of blood.

Her plan was simple. She wasn't going to actually murder anyone, just scare them a bit. She'd invited Scorpius, Maeve Finnegan, and Serenity Fawley to arrive at different points in the Alley. She'd get them into the haunted portion which was conveniently set up with anti-Apparition wards. Nobody was going to be getting out until Rose was good and ready for it. The first thing planned for each of her 'guests' was an Expelliarmus. No wands meant no fighting back. She could hardly wait.

"Ready?" Lysander asked. Rose nodded but didn't say anything. "Good, because Fawley's due to show up in just a mo'."

"Right," Rose said and took a deep breath. She pulled up the hood of her cloak and hunched her back, making herself look like a crone. Fawley arrived at her designated spot and the Portkey Rose had sent her dissolved into nothingness, startling Fawley. The Alley appeared to be empty and eerily quiet. Fawley hadn't seen her yet.

"H-Hello?" Fawley called out. "Is anyone there?"

"Come, my child," Rose said in her best imitation of an elderly woman's voice. "This way." Rose hobbled toward the beginning of her Alley of horrors and was pleased when she caught Fawley following her in one of the passing windows. The moment she had Fawley past the anti-Apparition spell, Rose disappeared into the gloom to let Fawley wander around on her own. Lorcan and Lysander would take her wand and direct her from there. She had to get back to the designated meeting spot so she could meet Finnegan who was due to arrive next.

Finnegan's arrival and entrance into the Alley of horrors went without a hitch, but when Scorpius showed up Albus was with him. Rose scowled. Scorpius was such a coward, he couldn't go _anywhere_ without Albus. She sighed, she'd just have to make it up to Albus later. She did the same song and dance, leading Scorpius and Albus past the anti-Apparition wards. A discrete word to Lorcan and Lysander and George and the show was set to begin.

Fawley and Finnegan had found each other and were whisper-arguing. They screamed when a fake-ghoul jumped out at them and their hesitant steps turned into a run.

Rose had her chainsaw revving behind them, a Leatherface mask on her head as she cackled. She hoped one of them pissed their pants. It wasn't a nice thought, but it made her feel better.

Turning, Rose spotted Scorpius and Albus trying to hone in on her. She frowned and hoped George was around with the other chainsaw to scare them into the finale.

Lorcan let loose a blood-curdling yell and aimed his knife at Albus. Albus squealed and began running with Scorpius taking off after him. Rose laughed. She had no idea her cousin had the ability to squeal like a pig. Finally, they were all corralled into the last gag. It was pitch black where they were and Rose and the Scamanders needed to get into place.

She hurried through the side of the black-out box they'd set up and shucked her Leatherface mask. She tore off her black robes and was left wearing a summer dress. She stepped onto the small stage they had set up and used her wand to tie her hands and legs to the chair. Lorcan slapped a piece of duct tape on her mouth and Lysander dripped a few tears down her cheeks. She screwed up her face and George turned on the spotlight.

She couldn't see Fawley, Finnegan, Albus, or Scorpius, but she could hear them shouting her name. They were extremely alarmed at her sudden appearance, but a perimeter had been put up and they couldn't get past it. She screamed into the duct tape and tugged at her restraints as the four teens screamed back, trying to get through the perimeter. Rose couldn't see it, but she knew that Lorcan and Lysander were creeping in from behind her. The moment that Finnegan spotted them, the screaming of the teens got louder. George revved one of the chainsaws from behind them and they all jumped at the sound.

"Ready to die, Rose?" Lorcan asked in a deep voice; they'd given him and Lysander a voice-modifying potion. No sense in giving up the game just yet.

She screamed and screamed, shaking her head, trying to free herself from the bonds.

Lysander chuckled, his voice just as deep. Both were in black robes and a Ghostface mask, just like the killers in the _Knives_ franchise. Lorcan struck first. His knife collapsing into her belly with just enough force to pierce the blood pack. She bit the one from under her tongue and allowed it to drip out of her mouth as she let out a pained moan. Scorpius was going insane. He was crying and screaming, trying to get to her. _Good_.

Lysander struck this time in her chest. Another hard punch, another blood pack. Rose didn't want to overplay it too much, but she also didn't want to miss the show. She moaned a bit more and let her head fall to her chest, keeping her eyes closed and her ears open. She heard Lysander and Lorcan high five each other, then felt the heat of the spotlight disappear as they were plunged into darkness once more. A Featherweight Charm was cast on her, and she was floating along behind one of her friends. She could still hear the four teens inside screaming and crying and she couldn't help the giggle that escaped her as Lysander flicked his wand and untied her.

"Here." Lorcan handed her a towel and Rose wiped her mouth and face. Lysander handed her wand to her and George came around from his place in the back.

"Alright, how's this thing end?" George asked. "They're right terrified. I'm not sure I've ever done a prank this hurtful." He rubbed the back of his neck and Rose knew he was uncomfortable.

"It's alright, Uncle George. We'll take it from here," Rose said with a small smile. But she didn't realize she didn't have all of the fake blood cleaned out and her smile looked awful. It didn't seem to reassure George at all.

"Not sure I should leave you here with them. You might really kill them." George laughed awkwardly.

Rose nodded. "I understand. It _was_ a little extreme and I do feel bad Albus got caught up in it. I was planning to just take away the enchantments and let them think I died all summer long."

"No, you can't do that!" George shouted. "Especially not to Albus!"

"You're right. The game would be up the first Sunday dinner at the Burrow. I guess we'll tell them now that they've been pranked."

"Let's turn the spotlight back on," Lorcan suggested. "We can go back onto the stage and take a bow like it was a performance."

Rose grinned; that was the perfect idea.

They got into place and when the spotlight came back on, they had removed the barrier preventing the four teens stuck inside the black-box from reaching the stage. Then Rose took a hand from both Lorcan and Lysander and they walked onto the stage and gave a bow.

Scorpius fainted. Albus knelt next to his friend as Fawley and Finnegan stared at the stage in confusion.

"Well, that did not go according to plan," Rose murmured as she watched her ex-boyfriend begin to come around.

"So it was all a joke?" Scorpius finally asked. A few flicks of George's wand dismantled the anti-Apparition charm and the black-box started to dissolve itself, letting the dying sunlight filter in.

"Not a joke," Rose said. "Retribution. I hope I caused you half as much heartache as _you_ caused _me_." She glared at him and he gulped and looked away. She realized she didn't want to be there. It wasn't fun anymore. Now that it was all over, she just felt empty. Without a word, she grabbed Lorcan and Lysander's hands once more and they Apparated away.


	6. Forgetting

**A/N This is my entry into the QLFC Season 6, Round 8. Beater 1 for Pride of Portree. The theme this week was The Korean Wave. My prompt was K-drama: Temperature of Love. Theme - unexpectedly meeting someone you had been in love with but had to part ways with later on in life.**

 **My optional prompts were: (word) forgive, (dialogue) "I've waited this long, yet suddenly now I'm impatient.", and (word) belittle.**

 **All translations courtesy of Google translate. Inspired by a drabble written by Claude Amelia Song with her permission. Mafia/Muggle!AU**

 **W/C: 1,255**

 **Beta Love to my fellow Pride teammates: Le soleil brille pas pour** **toi and Story Please**

 **Summary: Hermione has been running for a long time. Her past finally catches up to her.**

* * *

 **Forgetting**

* * *

Hermione Granger hurried along _Via Dandolo_. She was running late for work and hoped to catch the next tram. She could see the train hurrying along _Viale di Trastevere_ and knew she was going to miss it.

" _Merda_ ," she swore to herself, reaching the stop just as the tram was pulling away. She glanced at her watch and groaned; the next one wouldn't be along for another ten minutes. At least she had time for a quick cup of espresso. She turned from the station and headed into her favorite corner coffee shop.

" _Buongiorno signorina_!" the proprietor, Signora Gianelli, called out as she passed another customer a biscotti. " _Il solito oggi_?"

" _Sì, grazie_!" Hermione replied as she wove her way through the tiny tables to the counter to pay. A moment later, Signora Gianelli had espresso in a to-go cup and a biscotti wrapped for Hermione.

" _Buona giornata, Signorina Granger_!" Signora Gianelli said as Hermione collected her small meal. She offered Signora Gianelli a smile and wave of her hand as she began weaving her way through the tables once more. She had just about made it to the door when a silky voice reached her ears.

"Hello, _wife_."

Hermione stopped cold in her tracks. She knew that voice. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. In the time it took to compose herself, he had approached her from behind. She could feel him behind her, looming as he'd always liked to do. It would be so easy to forgive and forget. So easy to just lean back into his solid warmth. To let him wrap his arms around her once more and forget everything. But she couldn't. She couldn't forgive Severus or forget the things he'd done.

"When did you get out?" she asked without turning around. Her shoulders stiffened when he placed his large hands on top of them. She wanted to shrug him off but that making a scene in her favorite coffee shop would ruin it for her.

"Does it matter, _wife_?" Severus asked his voice right in her ear. Hermione shivered and closed her eyes once more. She squeezed her espresso cup so tightly the lid popped off.

" _Merda_ ," she muttered and hurried to put the lid back on without spilling any.

"You moved," Severus accused.

Suddenly, Hermione was incensed; she whipped around and pointed her finger right into his chest. "You are a thief and a murderer! I never wanted to see you again!"

"Do not belittle me, wife," Severus warned. He seemed to loom even larger and Hermione didn't want to feel scared, but she couldn't help it as fear began creeping through her. Would he murder her? Would he do to her as he had to his enemies in business? She took an involuntarily step back from him.

" _Merda_ , Hermione, I'm sorry," Severus said, reaching for her again. Hermione took another step backward. This time Severus didn't reach for her. He just stared at her with his hard, obsidian eyes. She took another and another until she felt she was far enough away that she could turn her back on him. Once she did, she raced out of the shop and back to the tram stop. A train was coming shortly; perhaps he wouldn't follow her to work.

* * *

It had taken Hermione five years to get over what she'd done to Severus. Five years of therapy. Five years of moving, and uprooting her life. Five years of making new friends and finding new jobs. Five years of forgetting all the love and heartbreak Severus had put her through and learning to love and live again. She hadn't quite gotten around to loving someone else. Her stupid heart stupidly belonged to that stupid man. But she _had_ started forgetting. She'd forgotten his smell, the way she liked how he was so much taller than her. She'd forgotten the way her heart beat faster when he was near. She'd forgotten the way she always longed to be in his arms. She'd forgotten the way he brought her comfort whenever they were together. There was so much she'd forgotten.

She wasn't able to concentrate at work that day. All she could think about was Severus. Why hadn't the police told her he was getting out? His sentence was supposed to have been for fifteen years. He'd only served a third of it. Was he planning to go back to the family? He had been slated to be Capo at one point, having been the trusted Consigliere to Capo Riddle for almost twenty years. Until he met Hermione.

No, that wasn't quite right. Severus was Consigliere the entire time he was married to Hermione. Hermione had been a young, naive, stupid girl. She'd thought when she fell in with the group of British expats that her life had been set. They knew Rome and the language and helped Hermione navigate the busy city and her university. She had no idea they were the most ruthless crime family in the city. She'd heard whispers of the _Mangiamorte_ family but hadn't realized the British expats with whom she'd surrounded herself were from that very family. By the time she found out, she and Severus had been married for six years and it was almost too late to get out.

How she had railed and belittled him at the end! She was still ashamed of her actions toward him, but she couldn't stand the thought of sleeping next to a murdering monster each night. She couldn't stand being in the same room with him. So she had nagged and henpecked and belittled the best way she knew how. All the while, she was speaking with an Inspector in the _Direzione Investigativa Antimafia_. She couldn't stand what her life had become, what she felt she had been tricked into, and so she did what she had to to get out.

It had broken her heart to turn Severus in to the DIA but at the end of the day, she had to follow her conscience. She'd even went back to using her old last name, though couldn't bring herself to actually divorce the man. She thought she had fifteen years to figure out what she was going to do in regards to him.

* * *

When Hermione returned home from work that day she was unsurprised to see Severus in her living room. Her traitorous cat, Crookshanks, perched on his lap. Crooks had always liked Severus more than her.

Hermione ignored both the man and the cat and set about making dinner. She was hungry, having skipped lunch, and she knew Severus wouldn't turn down some of her homemade pasta. He never did.

"I've waited this long, yet suddenly now I'm impatient." Hermione's shoulders stiffened again as she heard him speak from the doorway of her kitchen.

She turned to face him. "A long time for what?"

"This." He took two long strides forward and was suddenly in her space. A hand on either side of her head, cradling it, and his own face swept down to press their lips together. Hermione had forgotten what his kisses were like. She'd forgotten the taste of the man and the way he made fire burn in her veins. The way he made goose pimples explode across her body. The way he wrapped his arms around her and she fit against him so perfectly. She'd forgotten it all in the last five years. And she had a feeling he wouldn't be letting her forget it again.


	7. Auror Training

**A/N: This is my entry into the QLFC Season 6, Round 9. Beater 1 for Pride of Portree. The theme this week was I Am Woman. My woman was Nymphadora Tonks.**

 **My optional prompts were: (word) rich and (quote) Nothing more complicated than learning lines and putting on a costume. - Morgan Freeman.**

 **Word Count: 2988**

 **Beta Love: Story Please, sekdaniels, and brownlark42**

 **This is a Tonks x Charlie that could conceivably fit into canon as we don't know a lot about either of those character's backstory. Tabără de Balaur is literally Dragon Camp in Romanian courtesy of Google Translate.**

 **Summary: Tonks first undercover assignment brings her back in contact with someone she'd thought she'd lost.**

* * *

 **Auror Training**

* * *

 _June 1991_

"An Auror? Really, Tonks?" Charlie Weasley asked her as they walked around the lake, holding hands. She and Charlie had started out as best friends. Ever since he'd helped her pick up every book she'd dropped when a staircase switched on her unexpectedly the first week of first year. Throughout the next seven years, they had edged towards being more than friends. It was all that Tonks had really wanted. Charlie was like the sun, so bright it was hard to look at him. She knew she'd loved him from that first moment she'd seen him bending down to help her. Tonks had worn her hair orange for weeks afterward, trying to get it to the exact sun-lit shade to match Charlie's.

Tonks rolled her eyes. "That's rich, coming from you, Charlie 'Dragon-Tamer' Weasley. Yes, an Auror."

Charlie had plans to run off to Romania to some dragon sanctuary, after all. They had never discussed Tonks following him, but Tonks was sure that's what he expected of her. While she desperately _did_ want to follow him there, she did not want to seem _desperate_. So she made her own plans.

"Dragon _researcher_ ," he corrected. "Anyway, aren't you a little… _clumsy_ to become an Auror?"

Tonks ripped her hand from his and stomped ahead. She _was_ clumsy. Everyone knew it, and while she generally played it for laughs, that didn't mean she couldn't be an Auror.

"Come on, Tonks, I was kidding," Charlie said, catching up and grasping her hand again, tugging her around to face him.

"I beat you in Defense, Charlie Weasley. Maybe I'm a little clumsy, but my spellwork is top-notch."

"You're right, I'm sorry. I just…"

"You just what? Thought I should follow you as you followed your dreams?" Tonks asked bitterly.

"I don't want to fight," Charlie said. "You don't need me to help you follow your dreams. And I certainly won't ask you to give them up for me."

Tonks huffed and looked away from him so he wouldn't see the tears pricking her eyes. Even now he wouldn't ask her to follow him. Merlin, she would. Her dreams weren't limited to being an Auror. She would follow him wherever he went if he would only _ask_.

* * *

 _August 1993_

"Only two disguises?" Tonks asked her mentor, Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, as they approached the dragon camp. He was using Polyjuice to look like someone else, but he could never hide the glint in his eyes.

"That going to be a problem? I thought three personas might be a bit much for your first assignment abroad."

Tonks took a deep breath. This wasn't just her first assignment abroad. This was Romania. Specifically _Tabără de Balaur_ , the dragon camp where Charlie worked. She and Charlie hadn't been in touch for years, but she had done enough research to know he was stationed here.

"No problem," Tonks murmured, distracted by her thoughts about Charlie. They hadn't parted on very good terms and Tonks had thrown herself into her Auror training to distract from missing Charlie. Perhaps she wouldn't have to see Charlie at all. She certainly hoped he wasn't being bamboozled by the dragon egg smugglers that she and Moody were going out to investigate. Simply being in the proximity of the cartel was dangerous. She only had to image the threats he would be under if he actually knew about the illegal activities.

"Good," Moody said gruffly. "Should be a fairly straight-forward undercover operation. Nothing more complicated than learning lines and putting on a costume. Although I guess for you, the costume part is easier, eh?" Moody laughed and Tonks found herself cracking a small smile. Moody was tough. The toughest teacher Tonks had ever known, but she was fond of him. "If you do well, I think you'll be ready to take your qualifying examination."

Tonks smiled in response but was still lost in thought. Would Charlie _want_ to see her again? She shook her head; it likely didn't matter. No way was Charlie involved and even if he was, Tonks would be in disguise the entire time.

"Tonks?" Moody startled her out of her reverie. "Focus now, and put on your costume."

Tonks took a deep breath before she rung the bell located outside of the camp's gate. Closing her eyes, she made her hair long and red—a habitual ode to Charlie—and added several inches to her height. It was becoming easier for her to move in her metamorphic body the more she practiced.

"Help you?" a disembodied voice asked in Romanian.

Moody responded, letting the gentleman know they were there to meet with the camp's director. Moody suspected that the egg smuggling was coming from the top, and that's why it hadn't been stopped yet. They were there to pose as buyers and attempt to sort out who else was involved.

Her breath caught when the gate opened and revealed Charlie Weasley on the other side.

"Follow me," Charlie stated in stilted Romanian. Tonks wasn't good with other languages, but the Department of Mysteries had developed a language charm which Tonks had applied that morning.

Tonks couldn't keep her eyes off of Charlie. He looked good. Apparently being a dragon-wrangler suited him. Once a skinny, scholarly boy, he was now well-muscled, with long hair and just enough scruff on his intelligent face to make him look slightly rugged. He showed them to the director's office, gesturing for them to enter before him. He gave Tonks a considering look and she felt herself blush under his gaze. He always had the ability to make her blush.

It was hard for her to focus on the meeting with the director. The director invited them to stay for a few days, to pick out which dragon they'd like to get an egg from. It was breeding season and all of the female dragons had recently laid clutches.

* * *

The following morning found Tonks in a different disguise, this time wearing a dragonologist uniform, her hair hidden under a cap as she crept through the camp. She was attempting to figure out exactly who was involved in the smuggling activity and if any of the underlings knew about it. She eavesdropped on a few conversations in the canteen and then started wandering around the enclosures.

"Can I help you?" a familiar voice asked from behind her. She whirled around to see Charlie.

"Er, I'm fine," Tonks replied hastily and tried to edge around him. He had her blocked in and there was only one way out of the feeding shed she'd stumbled into.

"Who are you?" Charlie asked as he stepped closer. "You seem so familiar."

Tonks' breath caught in her throat. Was it possible Charlie recognized her despite her disguise? She didn't think so, but the way he was looking at her now made her heart race.

"I'm checking the richness of the feed. You're putting me behind schedule," Tonks said. "Please excuse me." She brushed past him, but Charlie's hand shot out and he grasped her wrist tightly.

"The feed is fine. But that's not the point. I know everyone in this camp," he said in a low voice. "If you don't tell me who you are, right now, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

 _Crap on toast_ , Tonks thought. She didn't know how to get out of this one. She could blow her cover to Charlie, but what if he was involved? Or she could stun him and Obliviate the last few minutes from his mind. The thought of doing that made her want to cry, but she shook it away. She didn't want to hurt Charlie, but until she knew more, she couldn't risk the mission. Clutching her wand tightly in her hand, Tonks muttered, " _Stupefy_."

Charlie collapsed behind her and Tonks whipped around to Obliviate him. Then she hurried from the shed and back to the cabin she was sharing with Moody. She would have to use a different disguise, this one was blown. Even if the Obliviation was perfect, Tonks didn't want to risk it.

* * *

"... the Opaleye only laid four. We need at least two for the preserve."

"And the Fireball only laid one. I had promised one to two different buyers," the second voice hissed. "What to do?"

"Paint an Ironbelly egg," suggested Charlie Weasley.

 _Bollocks, he's involved!_ The thought screamed through Tonks' mind and she almost couldn't breathe for the weight of it. Now was was she going to do? She would either have to extract him or arrest him and neither option was a good one. Extraction meant lying to Moody. Arresting him meant arresting the only love she'd had in her short, insignificant life.

She cast a Disillusionment charm over herself and huddled against the wall of the director's office. A swift mountain breeze picked up, but she didn't care. She buried her face into her knees as the conversation moved on to more mundane things in the open window above her.

* * *

Tonks was back in her dragon-egg-buyer disguise as Charlie was leading her and Moody around the camp, showing them the various dragons and their clutches.

"How do you retrieve the eggs?" Tonks asked.

"A team of us will go in, a few people to distract and control the dragon, and one person to take the eggs and replace them with fakes." Charlie shrugged.

"And the dragons? They don't mind?" Moody asked pointedly.

Charlie laughed. "'Course they do. But we have to remove the eggs to preserve the species. Some dragons in captivity have been known to eat their own young. It's for their best interest that we remove their eggs."

Tonks nodded, but couldn't stop the shudder that rolled through her at the sound of Charlie's laugh. She hadn't heard it in so long. And Charlie could hardly keep his eyes off her.

* * *

That night, after Tonks had eaten in the canteen, she was walking slowly around the camp, deep in thought. She was still torn over what to do about Charlie. She and Moody were close to ending the investigation and arresting the lot of them, but if they did that, there would be nobody left to work the camp. It turned out that every single employee of the camp was involved in some way or another.

"Hey." A low voice reached her ear and she turned to find Charlie standing behind her.

"Hello," Tonks said quietly. She didn't want to be around Charlie; she almost couldn't believe he was involved in something like this.

"Why do you seem so familiar to me?" Charlie asked. "Have we met before?"

"I don't think so," Tonks said stiffly and turned to continue her walk. Charlie fell into step beside her.

"I think we have…" Charlie trailed off. "I can't put my finger on it, but I _know_ I have met you before."

Tonks tried to keep her breathing steady, but it was difficult standing this close to Charlie. She was angry with him, for a lot of things. It wasn't only his involvement in egg smuggling, but also how they left things after Hogwarts. How he had doubted her talents. How he had never trusted her enough to ask her to come with him. He had left without a word and he never replied to her letters.

"Did you go to Hogwarts?" Charlie asked.

Tonks couldn't stop the quick intake of breath that sounded suspiciously like a gasp.

"I certainly did not," she responded. "I went to Durmstrang. If you'll excuse me." She sped up her pace, but Charlie increased his pace too. Tonks wanted to break into a run, but before she could, Charlie grasped her arm, pulling her to a stop.

Tonks spun around to face him and pulled her wand at the same time, pointing it to Charlie's chin. She was half impressed she didn't fall on her bum doing that move.

"Who are you?" Charlie asked, peering at her intently and not removing his hand from her arm.

"It. Doesn't. Matter." Her voice was tense. What was she going to do? They weren't ready to arrest anyone yet, and she didn't want to start by arresting Charlie.

"Are you with the Ministry?" Charlie asked in a near whisper.

Tonks couldn't stop her eyes from widening at his guess.

"I knew it!" Charlie hissed. He looked around to make sure they were the only ones outside and began dragging her toward his cabin.

"Let go of me!" Tonks whisper-screamed at him. "I'll hex you!"

"Shhh!" Charlie insisted as he pushed her into his cabin and shut the door behind them. He twirled his wand in a complicated pattern that Tonks recognized as warding spells.

"Which Ministry?" Charlie asked, turning back toward her. "Are you able to offer amnesty? I'm obviously British, but…" he trailed off looking wistful. Tonks struggled to hold on to her disguise, despite the growing temptation to drop it.

"You are not supposed to know that information, Mr. Weasley," she spat. "Merlin, I'm going to be in trouble."

"With the British Ministry then? I'll do anything to get out of this mess! I don't want to be smuggling dragon eggs. It never should have gone this far. I've been trying to quit for a year, and they won't let me leave. They threatened my family and friends! There's this girl… I'm so afraid—" Charlie cut himself off and turned, hitting the wall with his fist.

"I can't be here," Tonks said again and slashed her wand through the air, canceling his spells. She stalked out of his cabin, glad that for once luck was on her side and nobody else was about.

* * *

Two days later, she and Moody were in a planning session, trying to determine the best way to take out the smugglers all at once. Tonks wanted to tell Moody the truth about Charlie, but she didn't want Moody to know about their prior relationship. She was afraid he'd make her recuse herself from the case, and Tonks knew she couldn't do that. Not now. Now she had to figure out a way to save Charlie. She also needed to complete the mission, but she had no idea how she would do both.

This was clearly something Charlie had been roped into and didn't agree with. Perhaps she could use that information? Was it possible that Charlie wasn't the only reluctant participant? Maybe there were more? She shook her head to focus on what Moody was saying when someone knocked on the cabin door. Tonks quickly morphed into her buyer disguise.

It was the camp director. He wanted a word with Moody alone, and Tonks nodded as the two men left the cabin. She shifted back into her dragonologist disguise and followed them in case Moody needed backup.

She somehow lost them in the busy camp and found herself wandering around the administration buildings when she was accosted by Charlie once more. This time, she followed him into a small supply room and slammed the door shut.

"Damnit, I can't help you!"

"What? I don't know who you are!" Charlie shouted back, looking surprised and confused. Tonks realized she'd Obliviated Charlie the last time she wore this disguise.

"But... you _are_ familiar," Charlie conceded quietly.

Tonks had reached her limit. She pushed Charlie hard on the chest, shoving him to the ground and straddling his waist. "Listen here you dragon creep, you forget you ever saw me or I'll Obliviate you. Understand?"

She must have lost her concentration because the next word out of Charlie's mouth made her heart freeze in her chest.

"Tonks?"

"Now, I'm _really_ going to have to Obliviate you," Tonks muttered and dug for her wand.

Charlie surged forward and the next thing she knew she was flat on her back, with her hands pinned above her head. His grip was tight and Tonks couldn't free herself.

"It _is_ you," Charlie said, his voice almost impossibly soft. He hesitated, then leaned down to kiss her.

Conflicting emotions seared through Tonks. She didn't want to kiss Charlie. She especially didn't want to melt into him like she did when their lips finally met. She was angry. Angry at him for getting into this mess. Angry at him for leaving her and never asking her to come with him.

While Charlie was distracted by the kiss, Tonks flipped them once more. This time she had her wand at Charlie's throat.

"You can't tell anyone," Tonks threatened. "We're close to taking them down and I won't have you jeopardize that."

"What about me?" Charlie asked.

Tonks sighed, feeling tentative. "I need you, Charlie. I need you to help me complete this mission. I can't get you out of here and finish the mission without your help. We need to work together on this."

"Really? I never thought you'd ever need me." Charlie ignored the wand and pulled her close for another kiss. "Anyone brave and talented enough to want to be an Auror would never need the likes of me," he murmured before pressing his lips to hers. This time Tonks didn't fight him. She melted into his kiss, running a hand up his firm chest to cup his cheek.

"Of course I need you. Not just—not just for this mission. But for everything. I need to be with you, and I need to know you want to be with me too." Tonks felt familiar tears welling up.

Charlie stared at her, a combination of loss and hope crisscrossing his face. Apparently, Charlie had been waiting for her as much as she had been waiting for him.

"Together?" She asked, holding her breath.

"Together," he said, wrapping her in his arms and clutching her to his chest. "No matter what happens after this."

Tonks exhaled in relief, feeling as if she'd been holding her breath for years, not just moments.

"Okay," she said. "Let's make a plan."


	8. Alive

**A/N: This is my entry into the QLFC Season 6, Round 10. Beater 1 for Pride of Portree. The theme this week was Soapies! My prompt was to write about a character thought to be 'dead' coming back to life.**

 **My optional prompts were: (object) blanket, (word) objection, and (word) poisonous.**

 **Word count: 1680**

 **Beta love to my fellow Pride teammates: Le** **soleil brille pas pour toi and Story Please! Thank you, ladies, for your timeliness this round!**

 **This is obviously AU in which Regulus is brought back from the dead. I'm also changing the rules around Necromancy to fit this AU.**

 **Summary: Regulus Black was being summoned from his watery grave.**

* * *

 **Alive**

* * *

 _This is the worst part_ , Regulus Black thought as he began rising. The water made his clothes heavy, making it hard to move his emaciated limbs. He groaned heavily and stood panting in the shallow pool of the water.

Inferi were supposed to be reanimated corpses; that's what all the textbooks and Dark Magic books had taught Regulus as a child. As an Inferius, he knew differently. He had thoughts, and hopes, and most important of all, feelings. Emotionally and physically. He'd grown so gaunt that his entire body ached, his bones almost sticking through his skin. And he was depressed. Being an Inferius was a depressing state already; add to that the mental anguish of knowingly helping the Dark Lord guard a Horcrux. It was almost too much for Regulus to bear. But he had to. Inferi were almost impossible to 'kill.'

Even though wizards thought Inferi were dead, Regulus knew he wasn't. His heart might not beat anymore and his lungs might not breathe, but he still retained all of his thoughts and memories. He still _felt_ alive. He had no idea if he had died before becoming an Inferius, or if he was just cursed to be an Inferius. The literature he'd read before it had happened hadn't been clear on how to differentiate those states. Or he couldn't remember it clearly. All he knew was that he didn't feel dead.

Glancing around, he thought it was strange that none of the other Inferi in the underground lake had come to life. Had he been called for a special purpose? Was the Dark Lord here to torment him in 'death' as he had in life? It was a haunting thought and Regulus felt himself shudder in revulsion. _See_ , he thought to himself, _definitely not dead_. He looked around the dank cave and found… nothing. There was nobody there.

"Kreacher?" he groaned. His voice was scratchy and unearthly from disuse. He was rather glad there wasn't anyone else around to hear him.

Kreacher was the only one who knew where Regulus was. But it seemed even house-elves couldn't answer the call of an Inferius. He shuffled forward, his limbs not quite working properly, trying to get a better look around. The cave was dark; Regulus couldn't see any sources of light. However, a side benefit of being an Inferius meant he could see dimly without light. He glanced behind him, trying to get a feel for where in the cave he was, and could just make out the island in the middle of the lake, which meant he was on the shore, near the entrance of the cave. Could he get out? Should he leave? If he tried to ignore the call and simply return to his watery grave, he knew he would feel a punishing pain, but he couldn't actually see who was calling him. He was afraid that it was the Dark Lord, coming to punish him further. The last thing he wanted to do was more dirty deeds for his former master.

He felt a tug in his abdomen and found himself walking forward a few more steps. The decision about whether or not he should go back to the lake may have been out of his hands, as he continued shuffling to the entrance of the cave. Something or someone was pulling him onward He truly was being called. Although, it felt nothing like when an intruder came into the cave. That hurt, burned like fire in his veins as he and the rest of the Inferi trapped in the lake would surge forward to try and stop the pain, to stop the burning. This, though, was almost pleasant, like someone calling his name. How he longed to hear his name on the lips of another human being. It had been so long.

Time was another thing lost to him as an Inferius. He had no way to track it, no way to tell how much of it had passed. It could have been last week that he'd been cursed as an Inferius or it could have been a century ago. Regulus didn't know. He hoped it wasn't a century though. He hoped that the Dark Lord was defeated. Maybe it was Sirius calling him? Had Sirius figured out the clues Regulus had left for him? Regulus hoped so.

Once he had clambered over a small rockfall at the mouth of the cave, Regulus felt the fresh sea breeze on his face for the first time in ages. He didn't have to breathe, but he took a breath, filling his lungs with the sweet air, and immediately began coughing as his lungs attempted to heave out the lake water and pull in air. The water felt poisonous in his lungs as he tried to breathe. He dropped to his knees, coughing and retching up the foul water as his lungs worked to breathe again.

An indeterminable amount of time later, Regulus found himself breathing—truly breathing for the first time since he'd been cursed as an Inferius. He slowly moved his aching body to a sitting position, grimacing at the vomit next to him and wishing he had a wand so he could Vanish it. He took huge, deep, gulping breaths, relishing the ability. He could still feel the pull, the tug in his abdomen that called him forward. Or backward, as it were; over the cliffs where the cave was and inland. Who had called him forth? And how would Regulus be able to scale the sheer face of the cliff?

Regulus leaned his head back against the entrance wall of the cave to rest. The pull in his abdomen was unrelenting and he wanted to move, but he just needed a moment's peace.

* * *

When Regulus came to, he was immediately aware that he was not on the cliffside by the sea anymore. He could smell loam and dirt, and old stone. He hadn't even opened his eyes yet and he could tell he was somewhere else. Instead of the relentless breeze from the sea, the air was still, almost dead. And it was hot, swelteringly hot.

"...didn't have any objection before!" A female voice spat.

"That was before I knew he'd show up looking like… that," a male voice replied; revulsion hung heavy in the air.

"Let's at least get him a blanket; he's practically skin and bones. I bet he's freezing!" The female voice again.

Regulus didn't recognize either of the voices as they continued to squabble. Something warm settled around him and he finally was able to open his eyes. He found himself face-to-face with a woman he'd never met. Her brown eyes widened and she let out a small scream as she jumped back.

"What is it? Is he awake?" the male voice asked, coming closer. Regulus could see a dark, messy-haired man in a pair of spectacles.

"Yes," Regulus hissed. His movements were jerky as he tried to push the blanket off of him. "Too hot," he complained.

The woman sprang into action and removed the blanket. With a whirl of her wand, a cooling charm was placed around the area and Regulus felt like he could breathe easier.

"Sorry, you look so…" the woman trailed off. "I thought perhaps you'd be cool."

"Bloody hot," Regulus mumbled as he peered at her. She bore no resemblance to anyone he knew. The boy though, he looked a little like one of Sirius' friends. "Who are you?"

"Hang on," the girl muttered and turned away. She pulled a book across the grassy ground and began flipping through the pages rapidly. Regulus looked around and was surprised to see they were in a graveyard; he turned his head and found himself leaning against a tombstone. His body was blocking the name though, and he couldn't find the energy to move.

"One last spell," the witch mumbled and began chanting under her breath while waving her wand in Regulus' direction.

A wave of warm magic flowed over Regulus, starting at his head and sliding down his body all the way to his toes; he felt like he was wrapped in a warm cocoon and every muscle in his body relaxed to the point of him slumping against the grave marker behind him.

He blinked a few times. The witch and wizard in front of him were staring at him in shock. Every part of Regulus' body felt warm and cozy and almost new again. The aching pains in his joints and bones were gone. He held up a hand in front of his face and would have fallen over if he wasn't already sitting. Gone was the sickly, white skin of the Inferius and back was the healthy-looking color he'd been born with.

"What… How did…" he trailed off as he patted his body, finding no aches, no pains, and every bit of skin he could see no longer looked white and dead, but hale and pink, and it felt _alive_ to his touch.

"That's Hermione for you," the wizard said, grinning at him.

"Who?" Regulus shook his head, focussing again on the pair in front of them.

"Hermione Granger, Necromancer," the witch stated, holding out her hand for his.

"Regulus Black." Regulus shook her hand in awe. "Necromancer?"

"It's a long story," she said as she rolled her eyes.

"Harry Potter," the wizard said, holding out his hand. Regulus shook it.

"Are you related to James Potter?"

"I'm his son," Harry said proudly. "And you, Regulus Black, are a hero. Welcome back."

"What… I don't understand."

"Come on." Hermione held out her hand. Regulus took it and she hauled him to standing. He stumbled momentarily and she caught him. Harry looped his arm around Regulus' waist on the other side. "We'll tell you all about it on the way."

Regulus nodded and then spent every ounce of energy he had to stay on both feet and follow the two out of the graveyard. He had no idea what was going on, but he was glad to be back among the living.


	9. Mange

**A/N: This is my entry into the QLFC Season 6, Round 11. Beater 1 for Pride of Portree. The theme this round was Who's Afraid of the Dark? My prompt was Cujo - Stephen King. My optional prompts were: (word) fatal and (location) St Mungo's.**

 **W/C: 2,997**

 **Beta love: sekdaniels, brownlark42, Sehanine**

 **This is AU set sometime post-trio Hogwarts. I took the inspiration from Stephen King's Cujo but wanted to examine what it would be like to see the story from a first responder/medical point of view.**

 **Summary: Something is attacking witches and wizards in Wiltshire. Healer Granger doesn't have enough information to formulate a hypothesis and when Aurors Potter and Malfoy are brought in, she's faced with a past she wants to forget.**

* * *

 **Mange**

* * *

"Healer Granger! We've another one!" a mediwizard shouted at Hermione as he levitated a gurney through the corridor to a triage bay. Hermione signed the last bit of paperwork and shoved the chart into the hands of a waiting mediwitch with a quickly muttered thanks. She ran into the triage room to assess the damage.

It was bad. Another kid, maybe Hogwarts age, perhaps a year or so younger. Hermione ran her wand over the child. There was blood pouring from their side, more matted in their hair and Hermione couldn't tell whether the child was a witch or wizard.

"Where from?" Hermione asked.

"Wiltshire, ma'am," the emergency technician informed her. He was holding a bandage to the wound on the side and Hermione gestured for him to take it away.

"Holy mother of Merlin, _what_ did that to him?" the mediwizard swore under his breath as Hermione began siphoning the blood from the wound. She winced when she realized that whatever got the child had taken part of the colon, spleen, and small intestine. She hoped they'd got to the patient in time.

"Organ Regeneration Potion, stat," Hermione ordered as she began closing the tangle of wounds. "Followed by Blood Replenishing and General Antibiotic Solution."

* * *

Several hours later, Hermione was finishing her paperwork for the day when the head of St Mungo's patient care barrelled through the door of her office.

"Any idea what's going on out there, Healer Granger?" Hippocrates Smethwyck asked as he perched in her visitor's chair.

Hermione sighed. "No. Some sort of animal, but the bites have been too messy to identify. By the time the patient dies, we've done so much magic to save them that we can't get the body back to the condition where we can see what the bite _should_ look like. If I had to guess, I would say canine."

"Werewolf?" Smethwyck asked.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so. I saw no signs of werewolf poisoning and silver does nothing to the wounds. On the few patients who have lived, we've been able to heal the wounds completely, leaving no scar. A werewolf attack would most definitely leave a scar. Also, werewolves don't have any sort of numbing agent in their saliva. I'm convinced that whatever is doing this has anticoagulant properties and possibly something that makes the patients forget their attack entirely. It's been fatal for most of the patients, and those who live have no memory what happened to them."

"Are they all coming in from the same area?" Smethwyck asked rubbing his cheek absentmindedly. He looked tired.

"Wiltshire primarily, a handful from Dorset."

"How many victims?"

"Fourteen."

"Salazar's Rod! So many? Why wasn't I informed before today?"

"Healer Smethwyck, I don't make the rules. I just treat the patients," Hermione snapped. "I'm surprised the Auror Department hasn't been all over this already."

"And you haven't brought it up to your friend? Potter? "

"I've been working sixteen-hour days for the last week. We've had multiple victims each day. I haven't exactly had a chance to catch up with old school mates." Hermione bit her lip to keep from saying more. Ever since her divorce from Ron, she and Harry hadn't seen each other much.

"Right, sorry." Smethwyck rubbed his face again. "I'll call the Ministry now then. We have to figure this out."

Hermione nodded and didn't say anything more.

"Go home and get some sleep."

"Aye-aye, boss," Hermione muttered as he turned and left the room. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes and rolled her head from side to side to ease the tension in her neck.

She hadn't been entirely truthful with Smethwyck; she'd been working far more than sixteen hours most days. Once the attacks increased, she was spending time after her shift sifting through patient records in an attempt to figure out _what_ was causing this. A sudden thought made her sit straight up. The attacks had consistency, even if the bites were chaotic. Perhaps it was a pack of animals? And that's what made the wounds so messy?

Hermione shook her head as she realized she wasn't getting anything else done for the day and decided to pack up. A hot bath and a deep sleep sounded perfect at the moment—as long as she could keep her thoughts away from the gruesome aftermath of the unknown monster.

* * *

"Another one?" Hermione asked as she approached the mediwitch's station first thing the following morning.

"Three overnight, actually," Susan Bones, one of the mediwitches murmured. "All dead by the time the sun came up."

Hermione sighed heavily and held back the curse word that was poised on her lips. There wasn't anything she could do about the patients who were dead. "Any chance of identifying what's doing this to them?"

Susan shook her head. "Too much magic used to save their lives."

Hermione nodded and wished for a fleeting moment that they'd find a dead victim they could then study. She shook the thought from her head; she truly didn't want anyone else to die, but if they couldn't figure out what sort of beast was roaming the Wiltshire countryside, then more people _would_ die.

Halfway through her day, Smethwyck caught up with her as she was scarfing down a sandwich and marking charts.

"Healer Granger," he knocked on her door. She looked at him briefly and swallowed before waving him in. "We've got a meeting with the Aurors in an hour. Conference Room C."

"Right, I'll be there," Hermione nodded and offered a small smile to Smethwyck who frowned at her. She sneered at him when he turned his back. He was a pompous blowhard and Hermione wished she didn't have to work so closely with him, but Smethwyck was in charge of patient care the hospital over, which made him Hermione's boss. She rubbed the permanent crease between her eyes in an attempt to soothe a gathering tension headache. She needed a cool head before her meeting with the Aurors, and she didn't fancy seeing either Harry or Ron again. Maybe the Ministry would send someone else…

She could only hope.

* * *

"Come here, you wee beastie… that's it, in the cage," the white-haired magizoologist said as he herded his newest creation into the cage he'd created for it. He'd thought the cross-breeding would give the new species a mild enough temperament to sell to the public. Sort of like how Muggles had designer dogs.

Unfortunately, that hadn't been the case. This latest version was the most aggressive by far and he was starting to think that this program may be a lost cause. At least the Aurors hadn't tracked him down yet. He sighed as he patted one of the beast's heads, giving it a bit of a scratch behind the ear. He'd hate to have to put them all down when the Aurors _did_ show up. He hoped his wards would alert him before they realized who he was.

* * *

Hermione found Conference Room C empty when she arrived. She glanced at her watch to see she was right on time. Either everyone was late, or Smethwyck had moved the location of the meeting and not told her. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, hoping someone would be down soon.

She hated going to the conference rooms. They were all located underground and had short ceilings which made them oppressive and dreary.

"Ah, good to see you are on time, Healer Granger," Smethwyck said from behind her. He entered the room and Hermione opened her eyes in time to see him frown. "Aurors are always late," he muttered under his breath. "Come in then, let's go over the case files."

Hermione entered the room and sat next to Smethwyck, going through all of the files he'd brought with them. In the end, it wasn't much. They surmised it was a magical creature, but they had no hard evidence. They knew it was in Wiltshire, perhaps the southwest side of the county as evidenced by the few cases from Dorset.

Most of the injured had been children and young adults, with a few cases of elderly attacks. Hermione wondered if any Muggles had been attacked. If the Auror department wasn't aware of the case prior to now, would anyone _know_ if any Muggles had been attacked?

"Ah, here we are gentlemen," a soft voice said from right outside the door. Hermione consciously didn't look up, pretending to study the file before her.

 _Please not Harry or Ron_ , she prayed silently. She couldn't stand to see them again. They were both so antagonistic after the divorce.

Smethwyck next to her stood. "Thanks for coming."

"Of course," Harry replied and Hermione felt nausea claw its way from her stomach and up her throat. She swallowed it back quickly before it could overwhelm her. "Hermione."

"Granger," another voice from her past sneered and Hermione's head whipped up to see not only Harry Potter standing in the entrance of the conference room but also Draco Malfoy. She struggled to keep her face blank at their arrival despite her inner turmoil. _If it was possible to be worse than Ron..._

Harry looked at her coolly, his green eyes registering her presence, and turned his attention to Smethwyck. Malfoy quirked an eyebrow at her before he too turned his attention to the head of hospital.

"Hello," she said simply as Smethwyck guided them into the room and took their seats. Hermione looked back down at the case files, attempting to control her breathing. Now would not be a good time for a panic attack. She hadn't spoken to Harry since she and Ron had divorced two years prior; and she hadn't seen Malfoy in at least five years. Hermione lived a fairly solitary life these days, mostly going to work and the grocery when she had a moment.

"What do you think, Granger?" Malfoy said breaking Hermione from her reverie. She glanced up sharply to see his intense gaze upon her. The sneer that had traced his mouth earlier was gone now, and his face only held interest and perhaps something more, an emotion she couldn't identify.

"Canine, but unless we find a victim already deceased…" she shook her head. "The issue is when attempting to save the patients life, we end up using too much magic to close the wound. By the time the patient dies, the magic has obscured the wound to the point where we can't examine it properly. But definitely canine and definitely magical." She kept her thoughts of the pack animals to herself, as she really didn't have evidence to support the idea.

"You should probably contact the Muggle authorities and see if there have been any Muggle victims. At this point, we don't know if it is _that_ discerning."

"Right, we'll get on that," Harry said with a nod but avoided Hermione's eyes. Malfoy was drumming his left index finger up and down— _tap—tap—tap_. His fingernails were perfectly manicured—of course—and Hermione yanked her hands off the table, hiding her own chewed nails from sight.

"Why are you convinced it's magical?" Malfoy asked, eyeing Hermione once more. She dropped her gaze again, suddenly uncomfortable.

"There are properties of the saliva of the creature that have to be magical. Anticoagulants are common in Muggle animals, but I suspect that this creature's saliva also has something in it to cause irrecoverable memory loss and perhaps a numbing agent as well."

The meeting dragged on. She flinched when Harry and Malfoy hissed at hearing the number of fatalities. Smethwyck dismissed her as Harry and Malfoy began castigating him for waiting so long to call in the Aurors. Hermione was happy to flee the room and she escaped to her office for a few moments respite before heading back out to the triage center.

* * *

Later that evening, Hermione was working on case notes, hiding in her office because Harry and Malfoy were in the emergency department interviewing the staff when there was a knock on the door. She looked up and frowned, nobody around the hospital knocked.

"Come in," she called, looking up expectantly.

Malfoy appeared in the doorway, and Hermione immediately looked down at her desk, hoping that Harry wasn't with him.

"Don't worry, Potter's still upstairs," Malfoy drawled, echoing Hermione's thoughts.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked softly, still refusing to look at him. She made another mark on the chart, pretending to read over her notes, but her heart was beating too fast for her to concentrate. She didn't know when Malfoy had become attractive to her, but it was very inconvenient.

"What happened to the 'Golden Trio'?" Malfoy asked.

"Is this part of your case, Auror?" Hermione asked, finally looking up. He'd settled into her visitor's chair as if he owned it, balancing his left ankle over his right knee as he leaned back to assess her.

Hermione felt flush and began arranging her case files on her desk to keep her hands busy.

"Well?" Malfoy asked.

"Why are you here?" Hermione said, looking up at him once more. "Shouldn't you be upstairs helping Harry interview the staff?"

"I want to know why you seem more comfortable in my presence than Potter's," Malfoy responded, his eyes narrowing. "What happened, Granger?"

"It's really not relevant to the case, Malf—"

"Oh come off it, I'll leave you alone if you tell me," Malfoy enticed her.

Hermione frowned at him and leaned back in her own chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "I divorced Ron. Harry is married to Ron's sister and had to pick sides. It's not that juicy or exciting."

"Why'd you divorce the weasel?"

"That's enough," Hermione snapped. "Get out."

Malfoy stood slowly, not taking his eyes off Hermione. He lifted his eyebrow as he finally turned and left her office, closing the door quietly behind him. Hermione stared after him for a moment before the panic attack she'd been keeping at bay all day overwhelmed her.

She followed her therapist's instructions, paying close attention to her heart rate as her breathing increased rapidly. She closed her eyes and placed a hand on either side of her head, bending at the waist to put her face between her knees. An image of a pack of animals attacking her, clawing and biting flew before her eyes. They tore at her limbs, pulling her in different directions and she gasped, screwing her eyes shut in an effort to keep the creatures at bay.

She should leave work, but she knew that there was nothing for her back at her small flat. Nothing, but an empty bed where Crookshanks used to sleep. So she sat, behind her piles of paper, in her solitary office, counting her breaths and waiting for the fear to pass.

* * *

The Aurors were _finally_ sniffing around as the magizoologist constructed yet another cage for his creation. His beautiful, lovely creation that had a taste for human flesh. He shook his head as he guided the beast back inside. He couldn't figure out where he'd gone wrong. Six emerald eyes blinked at him as he locked the cage and turned from his beloved creation once more. He would need to think carefully about his next steps before the Aurors showed up. This was not a time for desperation.

* * *

"Who?" Hermione asked as she was hustled back into Conference Room C with Smethwyck.

"Edwardus Lima. Wrote a book some time ago…" Smethwyck trailed off as Hermione recalled where she'd seen that name before.

" _The Monster Book of Monsters_ ," Hermione said. "Edwardus Lima was… is a famous magizoologist. What in the world was he doing with… what did you say it was?"

"A cross between a crup and a Cerebus," Malfoy said from the doorway. Harry was standing behind him, looking stern.

"Did it have three heads?" Hermione asked before she could stop herself.

"It's why the wounds were so muddied," Malfoy said stepping further into the room and sitting down. "Each head had its own saliva, each with their own properties." He slid a thick file folder across the table to Hermione and she flipped it open, reading through it rapidly.

No wonder they couldn't figure out what sort of creature it was. Not only was it a creature never before created, but each head would take a bite of the victim. Hermione shuddered and closed the file folder with a snap.

"So it's over then?" she asked, looking up. Malfoy's gaze caught her again and she felt like she couldn't breathe. She forced herself to look away from him and caught Harry's eyes instead. She winced when she recognized that Harry's expression held regret and turned back to Malfoy. She didn't want Harry's regret.

"Yes, Granger, it's over. Lima knew he was cornered. When we got there, he'd… locked himself in with one of the creatures."

Hermione started. "What? Intentionally?"

"It seemed a deliberate choice he'd made. We'll be doing a full psychoanalysis case study. But for now, we thought you'd want to update your files based on our findings." Malfoy said.

Hermione nodded, trying to maintain composure. "If that's all?"

Smethwyck stood, shaking both Harry and Malfoy's hands and congratulating them on a job well done. Hermione edged out of the room and was almost to her office when a hand shot out to grab her elbow, stopping her in her tracks. She whirled around to find Malfoy gazing down at her.

"Can I help you?" Hermione asked.

"You intrigue me," Malfoy replied. Hermione glared at him. "Have a drink with me?"

"No," Hermione said quietly. "No, Malfoy," she repeated with force and yanked her elbow away. She hustled back to her office, shaking and fuming.

She would not be exploring whatever was between her and Malfoy. Not now, maybe not ever. He was just another threat, another monster in her mind. Yet another head of the Cerebus of men she'd been fighting her entire life.


	10. The Third Prophecy

**A/N: This is my entry into the QLFC Season 6, Round 12. Beater 1 for Pride of Portree. The theme this week was a character study on Ron Weasley. I had to write about Ron's relationship with a teacher at Hogwarts. My optional prompts were: (object) book, (quote) If you carry joy in your heart you can heal any moment. - Carlos Santana, and (song) Pure Imagination - Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.**

 **W/C: 1,899**

 **Beta love to my fellow Pride teammates: Le soleil brille pas pour toi and Story Please!**

 **This could fit nicely into canon during the Trio's sixth year.**

 **Summary: Ron has a run in with Professor Trelawney one night and it changes his life forever.**

* * *

 **The Third Prophecy**

* * *

"Oh, Ron," Lavender moaned into his ear as he slipped his hands beneath her shirt. He almost couldn't believe she was letting him get beneath her clothes. She never had before.

"Lav," Ron groaned back against the warm, smooth skin of her neck. Her stomach was taut and firm as Ron inched his hands higher.

"... _you'll see into your imagination_ …"

Lavender stiffened. "What was that?"

"It's nothing," Ron insisted, pressing a kiss to her lips and backing her further against the wall. "Nobody comes this way, and Trelawney never leaves her tower." In the few weeks, since they'd started dating, they had found that one of the most deserted places in the school was the north tower, just below the entrance to Trelawney's classroom.

" _...the world of my creation. What we'll see will defy explanation. If you want to view paradise_ …"

This time Ron heard the hauntingly eerie singing too. "Shite, I think you're right; someone's coming." The singing was so low, it was hard to tell whether it was a man or a woman. Ron hoped it wasn't Snape. He couldn't afford to get caught by him. "Here." Ron led Lavender down a few steps to where a tapestry covered the wall. He pulled it aside to reveal a narrow passageway. "Lets out near the Charms corridor," Ron explained as he ushered Lavender inside.

" _...to compare with pure imagination_ …" The singing was much closer now. Lavender seemed unsure, but Ron gave her a bit of a shove to get her inside the corridor. Her blonde curls flew behind her as Ron pushed her forward.

" _Ron_!"

"Go!" he hissed. "I'll be right behind you. And keep your wand light low!"

Lavender nodded shakily, looking uncertain, and Ron glanced over his shoulder to see a figure traipsing up the stairs in the darkness. Ron turned back around to find Lavender halfway down the corridor already; she was making the first turn when a hand landed on his shoulder. He dropped the tapestry quickly and whirled around. He hoped whoever it was didn't know about the secret passageway.

"Mr. Weasley?" Trelawney sounded drunk as she peered at him through the thick lenses of her glasses. Her watery blue eyes bugged at him and Ron shrank back from her.

"Oh, er, hello Professor. I was just go—"

"What are you doing up here at this hour?" Trelawney asked, speaking over him. She swayed slightly and Ron reached out a hand to grasp her elbow lest she take a tumble down the stairs. That was the last thing Ron needed—being blamed for a professor's injury, or worse, death. In the small scuffle that ensued, Trelawney dropped the book she'd been holding. Ron hadn't even noticed it, but the thud that echoed up and down the staircase startled him.

They both stared at each other for a moment and Ron could smell the sherry on Trelawney's breath. She seemed steady enough for the moment, so he bent down to pick up her book. It was a copy of _Unfogging the Future_. He went to hand it back to her when she suddenly stiffened.

Ron darted a hand out to steady her elbow once more and her eyes bugged further out of her head. Glancing around, Ron found that they were quite alone and his heart began to beat faster. Something was _wrong_ with Trelawney. He needed to get help, but he couldn't leave her here on the spiral steps. He'd have to take her with him. He'd just made the decision when she began to speak. Her voice was low and guttural, like nothing he'd ever heard before.

" _The florid one will betray you. If you carry joy in your heart you can heal any moment. The messenger will be your joyful savior… but only if you give up the flower. Death comes your way if the flower prevails. Following the messenger is the only way to save… your… life… heal… your soul… ensure your joy…"_

"Er, Professor?" Ron asked when it seemed as if she were done speaking. He had no idea what just happened.

Professor Trelawney coughed for a few moments, spraying spittle that Ron just barely managed to avoid. She still seemed quite unsteady on her feet. Drunk, as Ron had first suspected. It made him wonder if she was usually drunk. He'd never given much thought to any of his professors' personal lives, but suddenly the thought of lonely Professor Trelawney going through life as a drunk made him sad.

"Perhaps I should help you to your chambers," Ron offered, trying to lead her up the half-dozen steps to the top of the tower.

"Mr. Weasley? What on earth are you doing here, out of bed this late?" She glanced down at her wrist and tapped its skin, as if she were tapping the face of a watch that wasn't there, and glared down at it blearily.

"I think you should go to bed, Professor," Ron said quietly. "I'm sorry if I startled you, but you seem quite unsteady on your feet."

Trelawney peered at him suspiciously for a moment before her face cleared. "Yes, yes. Quite right you are, Weasley. Come, help me up the stairs."

Ron nodded, allowing her to thread her arm through his as he guided them up the last few stairs. He dug in his pocket for his wand and with a quick unlocking spell, the trapdoor above their heads opened and let down its ladder.

Just as Ron began to worry about how he was going to get her up it, Trelawney released his arm and began to crawl up the ladder to her classroom herself.

"Er, goodnight then," Ron said quietly, watching her go. She waved her hand behind her, which Ron took as a release. He didn't leave, though he did back down a few stairs out of her line of sight. He felt oddly responsible for her now and wanted to be sure she made it up to her classroom safely. Once he heard the trapdoor close with a bang, Ron let out a sigh of relief and began puzzling over the strange encounter.

Had her guttural words been a prophecy? He tried to think back to what Harry had told them about the prophecy she had spouted in third year. Had he mentioned the deep voice? The staring off into space? Ron couldn't remember; that had been almost three years ago now. And if it _was_ a prophecy, what did it mean? Some parts of it were a little obvious: 'flower' was clearly a euphemism for Lavender. But who was the messenger? Harry? No, that didn't make sense. He was romantically involved with Lavender. Harry didn't really do that for him.

Ron had been so deep in thought, he'd reached the Gryffindor common room without realizing it. He whispered the password to the Fat Lady, who swung the portrait door open without waking up. Ron breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been fortunate to not get caught. And hopefully, Trelawney was drunk enough that she wouldn't even remember the encounter in the morning.

"Won-Won!" came a whisper-shout from across the common room. Ron winced at the noise and suddenly found his arms full of Lavender.

"I was so worried! Who was it? Did you get points off? Detention? Oh, my poor, brave Won-Won, saving me!" Lavender fluttered her eyelashes at him. Not twenty minutes ago, Ron would have puffed up with pride at the idea of Lavender fawning over him. But now? After hearing what he was coming to believe was really a prophecy, he wondered if staying with Lavender really would kill him.

Lavender tried to kiss him, but Ron gently moved her aside. "Not now," he muttered. He needed to figure out what the prophecy meant. Lavender pouted and Ron shrugged at her. "I'm tired; I'm going to go to bed. I'll see you in the morning, alright?"

"Fine," Lavender snapped and, with a swish of her robes, turned away to stalk up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. He heard her door slam and winced again as the noise echoed down the staircase and into the empty common room.

Ron took the steps two at a time to his own dormitory and dug out his copy of _Unfogging the Future_. He turned to the chapter on prophecies to see what it had to say and found the chapter scant on details of what it looked like when someone was speaking a prophecy. It just talked about interpreting them. Which, to be fair, Ron felt like he needed to do too, but first, he wanted confirmation on whether what he heard was actually a prophecy and not just drunken ramblings. He vowed to speak with Harry in the morning.

* * *

The following day, Ron grabbed Harry before he went to breakfast and waited until their dorm emptied out.

"Ron, I'm hungry. And you always want to go to breakfast first," Harry complained as he watched Neville leave with a wave.

"I know, but something weird happened last night and, well… I'm hoping you can help me figure it out."

Harry nodded and gestured for him to go on.

"So I ran into Trelawney, and I think she gave me a prophecy."

"Really? About me? What did she say?"

Ron laughed. "That's just it, mate. I think it was about _me_!"

Harry looked taken aback for a moment, then repeated his question. "What did she say? What did she sound like?"

"Her voice was so low, I could barely understand her. But she went on about flowers and messengers and joy. And I think she was warning me off Lavender and onto someone else, but I can't figure out who."

"Sounds like a prophecy, alright," Harry agreed. "She won't remember giving it, so no use asking her. Did you say messengers? And flowers? Do you remember everything she said or just bits of it?"

"Let me think," Ron said. He closed his eyes as he thought about the encounter on the stairs. "Something about how the flowery one will betray me. Then a bit about joy in my heart will heal anything. Then the messenger will be my joyful savior or something. But I have to give up the flower. And death if I don't. Following the messenger will save my life, heal my soul, ensure joy. I think that's it.

"I thought maybe it was you; the 'following' bit sounded like following you around to make sure you aren't killed," Ron joked.

"Well, Harry doesn't mean messenger."

"I sort of thought maybe it was a play on words, like a herald," Ron suggested.

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. _Harry_ means something like _estate ruler_ or something."

"Huh," Ron grunted as Harry looked deep in thought about something.

"But you know where Hermione is originated from?" Harry asked.

"Er, Oxfordshire?" Ron suggested.

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, her name. Hermione, from Hermes, the messenger god in Greek mythology."

"Hermione means messenger?" Ron asked. He felt the blood drain from his face. "Did Trelawney just predict that being with Lavender would lead to my death, but Hermione is my savior?"

"I think she did, mate," Harry said with a grin. He clapped Ron on the shoulder and left him standing slack-jawed in the dormitory. Ron was speechless. Gobsmacked, almost. He had no idea what to do next.


	11. Problem Solving

**A/N: This is my entry into the QLFC Season 6, Round 13. Beater 1 for Pride of Portree. The theme this week was Trick or Treat and our team picked trick box. I chose 'Goblin: Write about someone who is too prideful or ill-tempered' as my main prompt. Optional prompts were: (emotion) anger and (dialogue) "If you're the smartest person in the room, get out of there."**

 **Thanks to Story Please and Ebenbild for helping talk through the germ of this story!**

 **This story could easily slide into canon - although I know that Severus being Draco's godfather isn't canon.**

 **Beta love to my fellow Pride teammates: Sehanine, Story Please, and sekdaniels.**

 **W/C: 1,941**

 **Summary: In his attempts to help a friend, Severus finds himself with more duties than he wanted.**

* * *

 **Problem Solving**

* * *

 _May 1979_

* * *

"I honestly couldn't even tell you what the issue is. Perhaps Cissy is just too stressed," Lucius Malfoy sighed. Severus Snape thought Lucius himself looked stressed and honestly wasn't surprised if he was. The war started by their Lord was hard on everyone, but Severus knew that didn't stop Lucius' commitments to the Malfoy family. Lucius and Cissy had been married for five years already and from the comments Lucius made, they weren't any closer to producing an heir.

"Even a girl would be preferable at this point," Lucius complained. "Father is getting downright agitated about the whole thing."

"Perhaps I could brew something for you," Severus suggested. They were sitting in Lucius' study at Malfoy Manor, enjoying a post-meeting cocktail. Severus had been surprised when he'd graduated from Hogwarts a few years ago that Lucius had wanted to take him under his wing. Now, Lucius was probably the closest thing Severus had to a friend since his fifth year.

"I do not need help conceiving a child, Severus," Lucius snapped, glaring at him. Severus pursed his lips but didn't say anything. He could practically _hear_ Lucius complaining about him and his 'uncouth' attitude. Lucius looked down his nose at Severus, despite being slightly shorter and Severus almost smirked knowing what the other wizard was thinking. They'd talked about it enough, Severus tried to pretend he was a pure-blood, raised with all of the same rules of etiquette that Lucius and his set had been, but he still made mistakes.

"I'm not suggesting you do," Severus replied evenly. "I was suggesting a calming draught, something to relax both you and Cissy enough for it to take."

"What would you know of conceiving a child? Have you ever even lain with a witch?" Lucius taunted meanly. Severus narrowed his eyes at him. Just because Lucius was angry, didn't mean he had to take it out on Severus. Or that Severus would put up with it.

"Don't take your anger out on me, Lucius," Severus hissed. He stood, intending to leave, but then Lucius seemed to let the emotion drain out of him and his shoulders slumped.

"Really, this isn't even something we should be discussing," Lucius muttered, turning away from him. Severus sighed, knowing he would be in for more complaining from Lucius the longer Cissy went without a child.

"You brought it up," Severus drawled. He knew that Lucius wasn't so prideful as to spark a disagreement because he was uncomfortable with the topic, but Severus could also see that Lucius was incredibly angry that the world hadn't given him a child yet.

* * *

 _June 1979_

* * *

Severus eyed Lucius over his glass of whiskey. He couldn't quite figure out why Lucius had too much pride to accept a little magical help in spawning progeny. Lucius was extremely worried about it, but wouldn't accept any help. Perhaps, Severus would have to assist in another way. Cissy had always been rather kind to Severus; she was a full two years younger than Lucius and had protected Severus when they were at Hogwarts together. He resolved to speak with her the next time he was at Malfoy Manor.

It was currently almost three in the morning, and Severus was sure that Cissy was tucked away in bed. He sighed. He hadn't known that being a Death Eater would be so… _dirty_. It wasn't that he didn't believe in his Lord's ideals, he absolutely did, but he had assumed, naively that he wouldn't have to _do_ the dirty work.

 _You're a half-blood, of course, you have to do the dirty work_ , a traitorous voice whispered angrily in his head. Severus clenched his jaw and finished his whiskey in one swallow. It was time he left for home. An idea for a fertility potion mixed with a calming draught had popped into his head; perhaps he could get started on it immediately. He was sure he had most of the ingredients.

"I'll take my leave then, Lucius. You seem to be in no fit mood for company," Severus murmured.

Lucius waved his hand lazily and Severus took that as his cue to go. He swept from Lucius' study and toward the Floo fireplace near the front door.

* * *

 _July 1979_

* * *

Severus had just finished what he thought would be the perfect solution to Lucius' problem. The best part? It was golden-brown in color and nearly flavorless. It even had the same thin consistency as tea. He was sure that he could convince Cissy to slip it into Lucius' tea one morning. If his calculations were correct, then it would only take a few drops and perhaps a few tries if Cissy was at the correct part of her cycle.

Severus blanched when he realized he would have to talk to Cissy about her menses. It was such a private topic that he wasn't sure he could bring it up. His decent mood flailed at the thought of broaching it. But he would. Lucius had done so much for him that he felt he owed it to his friend to help him out.

He bottled the potion and set it on his kitchen counter; he wasn't due to attend another meeting for a few days yet, perhaps something would come to him before then.

* * *

 _August 1979_

* * *

Severus grunted as his arm began burning and he leaped out from behind his desk. He was still in the tiny room he grew up in, unable to force himself to move his parent's things out of their room yet. He was quick to don his Death Eater robes and he dashed downstairs, grabbing the potion that had been sitting on his counter for a few weeks before pressing his wand to the Dark Mark on his arm.

He arrived in the same dark clearing where most of the meetings were held. Some pure-blood's lands, Severus was sure, but despite the current political climate, the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord were very much underground. Nobody wanted to host the meetings in their home for fear of word getting out to the general public. It was the same reason they all wore masks.

"Rise, followers," the Dark Lord hissed. Severus climbed to his feet as the Dark Lord began speaking about plans for future raids and praising those who had done well recently. He was rather low-level yet and was fine when his name wasn't mentioned at all. Severus had other things on his mind. Primarily, how to slip Lucius the potion without having to rope Cissy into his plans. The meeting was short, thankfully and as he was walking away from the clearing, Lucius stopped him.

"A drink, Severus?" Lucius asked, his hand on Severus' shoulder. Severus had no idea how Lucius knew it was him. Their masks all looked the same, and their hoods covered their hair. Perhaps it was his walk? Or his hunched shoulders? He nodded in response to Lucius' question and steeled himself for Lucius to Side-Along Apparate them. It was a favorite trick of Lucius', get someone to agree to something and then Apparate them without warning to another location. Severus was long used to it and even agreed it was quite a brilliant way to unsettle someone, but he hated when Lucius did it to him.

They arrived in Lucius' study and Severus took off his mask while Lucius poured drinks. He checked the time and found it was quite early yet, perhaps this evening was the day he'd be able to track down Cissy. Lucius wouldn't think of allowing Severus to pour him a drink in his own home. Not for the first time, Severus wished Lucius wasn't so prideful. It would be much easier if Lucius just agreed that Severus could help and allow him to do so.

"Any luck with Cissy?" Severus broached. It seemed all Lucius talked about or wanted to talk about were their failures to conceive.

"No," Lucius spat. "She's bleeding again." He slammed the glass he was holding onto the desk and Severus was surprised when it didn't crack. The sound of glass on mahogany resounded around the room. Severus just raised his eyebrow at his friend.

"Who are you really angry at here, Lucius?" Severus asked after several moments of silence.

Lucius whirled around and glared at him. "As my father always says: 'if you're the smartest person in the room, get out of there.' Perhaps you should leave?" he sneered.

Severus held up his hands to show he wasn't trying to be antagonistic. "I just think that if you tried—"

"I'm not taking your damned impotence potion, Snape!" Lucius snarled.

"It's not an impotence potion, Lucius," Severus said calmly. He was kicking himself for even bringing up the topic. Clearly, Lucius was too angry to listen to reason.

"Point stands," Lucius hissed.

"Well, you certainly won't conceive if you are as tense as you seem to be," Severus said lightly. He finished his whiskey quickly and nodded his head at Lucius. There was no point even being in the same room with him at the moment. He was much too angry. The moment Severus pulled the door to Lucius' study closed, he heard a glass impact against it and shatter. He wondered how much pressure Abraxas Malfoy was putting on his son.

Cissy preferred to spend her time in the conservatory. She'd always been a good student of Herbology and since marrying Lucius, the gardens of Malfoy Manor had returned to a state of pride. Severus was pleased when he found her there.

"Severus," Cissy smiled warmly at him. Severus nodded to her in response. Cissy would never allow most people to see her as she was now, dressed down in slacks and covered in potting soil.

"I was just repotting these asphodels." Cissy indicated the collection of white flowers before her.

"Fine specimens," Severus commented, fingering the flower of one before turning back to Cissy.

"Did you need something? Or were you looking for Lucius?"

"In the conservatory?" Severus asked. "No, I was looking for you. Lucius has…" Severus trailed off awkwardly. He felt so indebted to Lucius and Cissy both that he knew he needed to do something to help him and the potion tucked away in his pocket _would_ help them, but he still had no idea how to broach the subject.

He pulled out the small vial of potion and handed it to Cissy. "Put it in Lucius' tea for a few days when it's around your time each month. I believe it will solve your problem." Severus could feel himself coloring, so he turned on his heels and swept out of the room.

"Thank you!" Cissy called from behind him. Severus didn't acknowledge her. He stalked out of Malfoy Manor and hoped he wouldn't ever have to acknowledge Cissy in that way again.

* * *

 _May 1980_

* * *

"It would mean so much to us," Cissy said. She gripped Severus' hand and he wanted to pull away from her, but also didn't want to upset her. She was so close to her time and had been more emotional than he thought necessary.

"Both of you?" Severus asked, turning his head to look at Lucius standing near the window.

"Despite your meddling," Lucius snapped, "yes, both of us."

"If you insist," Severus sighed.

Cissy squealed in delight. "Thank you, thank you! Oh, Severus, you'll make a wonderful godfather!" She threw her arms around him. Severus stood stiffly, a little nauseated when her belly pressed against him and he could feel the child inside moving. Merlin, he hoped it was a boy and he wouldn't have to go through this again.


	12. Tempus Machina

**A/N: This is my entry into the QLFC Season 6, Finals Round 1. Beater 1 for Pride of Portree. The theme this week was time travel. I had to write a story based on the HG Wells novel The Time Machine. My optional prompts were: (word) mindless and (quote) Life is a series of embarrassing moments which leave you feeling alone in your confusion and shame. - Miranda Hart. **

**This is a Severus lives AU.**

 **W/C: 2,852**

 **Beta love to my fellow Pride teammates: Litfreak89 and Story Please!**

 **Summary: Severus Snape spent years trying to undo the events of October 1981. When he finally has a chance to go back and fix his mistakes, he ends up in May 1998 instead, saving his future self from inevitable death**.

* * *

 **Tempus Machina**

* * *

 _July 1989_

* * *

Severus Snape was quite sure this wasn't going to work. But he'd been tinkering with the machine for the better part of five years. The students had just left the castle; if there were a mishap, he'd have two months to fix it before the little buggers were back. It was now or never. Severus took a deep breath as he contemplated what he was about to do. The machine was based on the infamous device from the H.G. Wells novel _The Time Machine_. When the idea to travel through time first occurred to Severus, he hadn't been sure of where to start, so he went back to books from his childhood.

 _The Time Machine_ had been a beloved novel, one of the few that his mother had owned, and Severus had read it over and over again before coming to Hogwarts. Now, it was his inspiration. He'd used similar materials on his machine used in the book. Ivory and crystal turned out to be perfect conductors to move through time. He was pleased with every test he'd run thus far, only sending the machine a few hours or days into the future, never the past. He couldn't spend so many years perfecting the machine, only to lose it in the past. It worked perfectly going into the future, so he just had to hope that it would work for the past as well. It had to—it was his sole reason for creating the machine.

He planned to return to October of 1981. He was going to save Lily if it was the last thing he ever did. He took one more pass around the time machine, inspecting it from all angles to ensure that it was in perfect condition.

The Shrieking Shack was filthy, and despite Severus's liberal use of the Scourgify charm, it remained thus. The floorboards creaked around him as stepped around the final corner of the cube he had built. The door opened bifold, and inside were two levers of ebony. They were beautiful in Severus's opinion, and though he had only used the right one, the one that sent the box to the future, he longed to push the left one. The one that would _hopefully_ send him to the past to save Lily.

He sighed. Lily. He knew that even if he did save her, it was likely she would still want nothing to do with him. That was honestly alright with Severus. He would do anything to have her back in the world, even if she still hated him. Severus clenched and unclenched his fists once, taking one more deep breath and slid inside the cube. It wasn't quite tall enough for him to stand in, so he hunched over as he fingered the left lever. He had calculated that holding the lever down for approximately three minutes would result in him landing eight years and three months into the past. October 1981. The worst month of his life. Severus pulled his stopwatch out with his right hand and clicked it the same moment that he pressed the lever down with his left.

Nothing seemed to change. The box didn't seem to move at all. At exactly three minutes, Severus pushed the lever back up to neutral and stopped the stopwatch. He planned to Apparate to Diagon Alley and get a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ to check what the date was, but when he left the box it was dark inside the Shrieking Shack.

 _That's alright_ , he thought to himself, he hadn't been as concerned with time of day as he had been with getting the right month and year.

He'd begun building the time machine in the upper level of the Shrieking Shack to try and keep any nosy children from seeing it by peering through the ground floor windows. As he stepped out of the door of the cube, the floorboards beneath his feet groaned horrifically.

Suddenly, he heard speaking below him.

"Severus," a high-pitched voice hissed. "I am sorry, my faithful servant." Severus's blood ran cold at the term 'faithful servant.' It's what the Dark Lord had always called him. But he and the Dark Lord had never been to the Shrieking Shack together. Did that mean he wasn't in the past? Was he in the future? He shivered at the sound of his former master's voice. He had always hoped the Dark Lord was gone for good, although he knew that Dumbledore didn't agree with that assessment.

He cast a Silencing charm on his boots and the floor beneath him and crept toward the stairs. The Dark Lord was speaking about the Elder Wand. A fantasy, surely. The Elder Wand was just a children's tale. It wasn't real, was it? He reached the bottom of the stairs to find a much older looking version of him, and his heart sank. The time machine only moved forward? How was that possible? He had been sure he programmed it correctly. He felt embarrassed that he seemingly hadn't programmed the machine correctly. He was supposed to be brilliant; he should have been able to do this one thing right, this one thing that would redeem his soul and the thing he regretted more than anything else in the world.

His older self was trying to explain something to a grey-faced monster of a man. Was that the Dark Lord? He looked nothing like he had the last time Severus had seen him. What had happened? How far into the future was he? His older self appeared _so_ old. He should go back upstairs and figure out what went wrong with the time machine, but he found he couldn't keep his eyes from the scene before him.

"Nagini," the Dark Lord hissed. Severus was confused. What was a Nagini? A soft, papery, slithering sound reached his ears then, and from the shadows of the room a large snake leapt forward and bit the older version of himself in the neck, once, twice, three times. Severus felt disgust roll through him heavy and hot. Bile rose in the back of his throat, and he wanted to vomit, but also felt rooted to the spot as his counterpart slumped to the floor, his hands pressing uselessly against his neck. Attempting to stem the blood flow, he was sure. The Dark Lord and the snake, Nagini, left the Shrieking Shack and before Severus could move, three teenagers scrambled forward.

"Professor Snape!" a boy who looked eerily like James Potter said. A girl with bushy, brown hair knelt on the other side of him, her wand busy as she tried to stop the blood.

"Out of the way," he growled, pushing the girl from his counterpart. " _Vulnera Sanentur_ ," he chanted over and over again.

"Here's some dittany," the girls said, shoving a vial into his hands. Severus poured it over the wounds.

"Who are you?" the girl asked, her eyes bouncing between the dying man and Severus.

"Doesn't matter," Severus grunted. He reached into an inner pocket, pulling free a Blood-Replenishing Potion and shoving it down the other Severus' lips. "Any idea what sort of snake?"

"Some sort of viper," the girl said. "No idea what kind."

"Fine," Severus grunted and dug through his inner pockets once more, finding a bezoar and shoving that down his counterparts throat as well. The bleeding had slowed considerably by this point, and he was reasonably sure that the older version of him was going to live.

He stood quickly; he had to get out of here. It was bad enough that he knew what was going to happen, but he'd been seen by people who clearly knew him. He needed to leave. The blood on his hands made his stomach roil in nausea again, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to hold off the vomiting for much longer.

"Wait!" the girl cried. "Where are you going?"

"Back. I have to go back," Severus said mindlessly as he sprinted up the stairs. He placed a complicated ward at the bottom of the stairs to prevent any of the three of them from following him.

"Who was that 'Mione?" one of the boys asked.

"No idea," the girl replied. "We have to help Professor Snape though," she said.

Severus stopped listening to them as his nausea finally got the better of him, and he fell to his knees, retching everything he had in his stomach up. He hated blood. Always had. And seeing a version of himself covered in it? Almost dying? That had been the worst part. Severus felt mindless as he wiped the spittle from his mouth and fell over onto his side. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He was in the future, but Severus had no idea how far into the future he was. The other version of himself looked _old_. And the Dark Lord was coming back. When would that happen? He felt like he'd done a good thing, but he hadn't saved Lily. And the boy, he looked more like James Potter than anyone had a right to. Was that James and Lily's son? Harry Potter. He'd been dreading Potter's arrival at Hogwarts for years, and now, before he was ready, he'd come face to face with the boy. A teenager now. Maybe seventeen? Which would make this 1997 or 1998. Perhaps this could be salvaged.

Severus gathered himself and stood, lurching toward the ivory and crystal cube. It was strangely beautiful in the dilapidated room. If he pushed the lever down for three minutes to move forward in time by the same amount he was trying to move backward. What would happen if he pushed the lever _up_ for six minutes? Hopefully, he'd go back to October of 1981.

Perhaps he'd done something wrong, and pushing either leaver _down_ made the machine go forward. Severus hoped that pushing the levers up would reverse the machine. He felt rather foolish that he hadn't worked all of the kinks out of the machine yet. It made him think of a quote his mother had always mumbled to him: 'Life is a series of embarrassing moments which leave you feeling alone in your confusion and shame.' He felt all of those feelings now as he pushed to doors of the machine closed behind him.

Once again, Severus pulled out his stopwatch. He made a snap decision and pushed _both_ levers up, clicking the stopwatch at the same time. Once more, it didn't even feel like the machine moved. At six minutes, he stopped the stopwatch and put the levers back into a neutral position. He paused for a moment but didn't hear anything outside of the machine. Opening the door, he found he was alone in the Shrieking Shack.

Severus peered outside, pleased to see it was daylight and promptly Disapparated to Diagon Alley. It was unbearably hot, similar to the day he had left from 1989. That didn't bode well for him ending up in October 1981. He couldn't recall the weather in October 1981, but he had to assume it wasn't scorching. He found the first news seller and bought a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. The date at the top read, _July 3, 1989_. His heart sank. It was the same day he left.

Severus tried again and again over the years but was unable to make the machine travel back in time. It went forward in time and would return to the time it left from, but no matter what he did, it would not go backward.

It had taken him an embarrassingly long amount of time to figure out that the machine required the levers to be pressed up double the length in time that they were pressed down when going forward in order to send the machine back to where it originated. And the levers themselves? They seemed to do the same thing; there appeared to be no difference between the two. Severus had done several experiments on both of them: using them in tandem or solo, they did the same thing. Down sent him forward in time; up sent him back to where he originated. Once he had pushed them up for only a quarter of the time, he'd pushed them down for and found he hadn't moved from the future at all. Nothing he did seemed to make the machine work in the way he had originally designed.

* * *

 _July 1998_

* * *

Severus' slow recovery in St Mungo's was nearing an end. He'd successfully dressed himself and walked down the corridor and back again. He was pleased that he would once more be able to live in obscurity in his childhood home. Although he had no idea what he was going to do when he got there. Severus had refused all visitors from the moment he woke up in St Mungo's. He had no plans to be helpless in a hospital bed as all and sundry came to castigate him. All he wanted was a quiet retirement making potions. And being left alone.

The healers had just left to get the final parchmentwork, and Severus sat heavily on his bed, his back to the door. He dropped his head into his hands and breathed deeply. He had no idea what waited for him out in the real world. He'd also refused to read the rag that was the _Daily Prophet_ , although his healers regularly brought him copies. He incinerated them on the spot.

The door opened behind him, and Severus straightened. "When will the Aurors be here?"

"Why would the Aurors come?" Granger asked. She stepped around the bed to face him.

"What are you doing here?" Severus spat. "I asked for no visitors."

"Technically, you are being released today. Therefore, I am not a visitor," Granger smiled slightly at him. Severus didn't respond. He glared at the silly chit until she began to squirm. "Why are you expecting Aurors, Professor Snape?"

Severus flinched at the honorific. "To take me to Azkaban for war crimes. I thought you were supposed to be bright." His tone was scathing, but the girl didn't acknowledge it.

She did laugh, however. A high, tinkling sound that should have set Severus' nerves on edge, but didn't. A warm feeling in his belly kindled at the sound, and Severus barely tamped down his horror. He couldn't find a _student_ attractive. Embarrassment and shame flooded him, and he tipped his head forward, hiding his face behind his hair.

"I know you refused visitors, but didn't you read the _Daily Prophet_?" Granger asked.

Severus glared at her balefully.

Granger's eyebrow rose expectantly, and when Severus still didn't respond, she huffed slightly before going on.

"You were exonerated, Professor. The Wizengamot listened to testimony given by Harry, Ron, and myself as well as testimony given by your fellow professors. You are a free man."

Severus flinched at each use of 'professor.' He moved his head down, hiding his face once more and stared at his half-clenched hands. He hadn't been a very good professor in the last year. As Headmaster, he'd allowed children to be tortured under his watch. It would be his undying shame. He still didn't say anything as he processed what Granger had told him. He hadn't been free in his entire life, and confusion was his first emotion. He didn't know what being free meant.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Granger asked softly, breaking him from his mindless reverie.

"Hmm?" He hadn't meant to say anything, but she startled him into a response.

"You saved yourself. Somehow you came forward in time and saved yourself," Granger said. She stepped closer to him then, and Severus glanced up sharply.

Granger lifted a hand, brushing his hair out of his face. Her hand was warm and he inhaled, an overwhelming scent of cinnamon and vanilla invaded his nostrils. Her hand traced the contours of his face, and he tried to glare at her, but couldn't bear to move his face when she touched him so gently.

"It was, I can still see him in you," she whispered.

Severus felt his body responding to her nearness and he stood abruptly, pushing her away from him.

"If there will be nothing else, Miss Granger!" Severus snapped. She squeaked and stepped away from him.

"Sorry for taking liberties, Professor," she mumbled. Then said louder, "I just wanted to let you know that you are a free man now. And that your service to the wizarding world hasn't gone unnoticed."

She summoned a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and handed it to him. Then she left the room. Leaving him alone once more. Severus stared down at the paper to see his face glaring back out at him. ' _HOGWARTS HEADMASTER EXONERATED!_ ' read the headline. Then the subheadline: ' _GRANGER CREDITED WITH SAVING SNAPE'S LIFE!_ '

Shame and revulsion rose up and Severus forced himself to swallow it back. The healers wouldn't let him leave if he vomited now. He buried his emotions once more under a veil of Occlumency and prepared himself for his re-emergence into the world.


	13. Turn Down the Light

**A/N: This is my entry into the QLFC Season 6, Semi-Finals. Beater 1 for Pride of Portree. The theme this week was theme songs to popular TV shows. My theme song was Dark: Goodbye — Apparat ft. Soap &Skin. My optional prompts were: (word) distance, (word) medieval, and (word) rotation. **

**This is an AU in which Kendra and Ariana Dumbledore die the same day.**

 **W/C: 1,337**

 **Beta love to my fellow Pride teammates: Story Please, Ebenbild, and sekdaniels!**

 **Summary: Ariana Dumbledore sees her last day on earth; tearing her family apart in the process.**

* * *

 **Turn Down the Light**

* * *

 _Please put me to bed_

 _And turn down the light_

As the curse pummeled Ariana's body, all she wanted to do was sleep. She'd been so tired—for years now—perhaps this final fight would be the one that would put her out of her misery. She was scared. When she was scared, her magic became _unstable_ , as Albus liked to call it. _Dangerous_ as Aberforth would say. Her mother would deny there was a problem at all. She'd just contain Ariana's explosiveness and then pass out in exhaustion once Ariana was back to herself.

It was too late; she turned her eyes back on her oldest brother. He wasn't even looking at her. He only had eyes for Gellert these days. Dear, sweet Gellert who was tearing her family apart. Aberforth hadn't realized what happened; he was still firing curses at Gellert's shield.

"NO!" Kendra screamed.

Ariana grunted as the darkness overtook her. She could feel _it_ happening.

The _unstableness_ , the _dangerousness_ , the _explosiveness_. It was right there at the edge of her consciousness. She pushed and pushed and pushed at it. Attempting to get it away from her, but on and on and on it came like a speeding train. Nothing would stop it.

 _Lay down next to me_

 _Don't listen when I scream_

* * *

Albus looked on in horror as a rogue spell— _did he cast it?—_ collided with Ariana. The sound of her body hitting the dusty road would haunt him for years to come.

"NO!" his mother shouted, running out of the house and crossing the distance to kneel over Ariana.

"Mother!" Albus warned; he could see the edges of his sister starting to blur. Blur in the way that they did when she was about to become _unstable_. When she became a _thing_ and not a person. When she became an obscurial. Something so dark, so evil, so ill-understood that his mother denied it even happened.

"This is _your_ fault, brother," Aberforth growled. Albus ignored him, unable to keep his eyes off of Ariana. It was happening and his mother wasn't paying attention. She was slumped over Ariana's body, weeping. Right then, Albus hated his mother. He hated that she had forced their family to this town, hated the way she had catered to Ariana for years. Too busy with Ariana to bother with him.

Ariana's form shifted further, tightening, blurring, darkening.

"It's happening, Albie!" Gellie shouted. "We have to contain it!"

"There _is_ no containing it, you fool!" Aberforth shouted.

Kendra fell off to the side as Ariana's body disappeared into a dark, black, orb. Its rotation was too fast to catch, too fast to see, but Ariana was clearly gone. She'd become the obscurial once again.

"Watch out!" Albus shouted as the obscurial—he couldn't think of it as Ariana, his poor, sweet, innocent sister—began rotating out of control. It flew up and up, high above their heads, and then came back down quicker than anything Albus had ever seen before. Obscurials were poorly understood, but Albus was intimately familiar with the destruction they caused.

* * *

Aberforth shuddered violently as his sister disappeared and the obscurial took her place. His mother was still slumped on the side of the road, but Aberforth was as angry with her as he was with Albus. Stupid, bloody Albus and his stupid, bloody German friend. He hated them both. He hated them all. Ariana was the light of his life and he hated what she turned into. He hated the fact that she became this dark, uncontrollable _thing_. She wreaked destruction in this form and Aberforth's heart squeezed as he watched the obscurial twist and turn.

It slammed with such force into the side of their home that the entire medieval wall collapsed.

"ARIANA!" Aberforth screamed, running toward the house.

Quick as a flash, she appeared again, this time hovering over the dusty street. Aberforth knew that she couldn't hear him, _wouldn't_ hear him, but it didn't stop him from trying.

"Ariana! Please! Calm down and I can help you," Aberforth begged as he stumbled forward, trying in vain to reach the dark rotation that was his sister.

"Aberforth!" Albus roared behind him, but Aberforth ignored him.

"Ariana! I can _help_ you!" Aberforth said again. He was sure he wasn't imagining it when the rotating orb seemed to shudder to a stop for a moment. "Please!"

"Aberforth, get away from it!" Albus shouted.

Aberforth's heart sank as the obscurial's rotation sped up again, going faster and faster and faster. It was a blur by the time it sped past Aberforth, heading directly for Albus.

* * *

"NO!" Kendra screamed for the second time that day as she watched the thing that was her daughter head for her oldest son. Not Albus—she wouldn't let this happen to Albus. Staggering to her feet she rushed forward, hoping, praying to any deity that was listening that her feet were fast enough.

Fast enough to move to protect Albus. She was sick over the shattering of her family and she _knew_ she wouldn't survive if Albus was taken from her too.

"No! Ariana!" Kendra shrieked once more. The obscurial was getting closer and closer, there was no way Kendra was going to make it. She reached a hand out and whether, by accident or miracle, the obscurial turned at the exact right moment, missing Albus entirely.

When the dark orb punched through Kendra's chest, she didn't feel a thing. It was when it flew out her back that she felt the pain. A ring of fire in the middle of her back.

"Ariana!" Aberforth shouted. Kendra whirled around to see the obscurial. Now her daughter, once more.

"Ariana!" Kendra took one step, then two before collapsing near her daughter.

"Mama," Ariana breathed.

* * *

Gellert knew that he had to get away. Maybe the Dumbledores didn't know where the spell that hit Ariana came from, but Gellert did. It was his own spell, after all. He recognized it for what it was.

Would Albus know if he left now? Would Aberforth?

Truly Gellert wasn't worried about Aberforth; he was a middling wizard of little talent. It was Albus who took his breath away with the amount of power he commanded. Albus who he would have followed anywhere, everywhere. But now?

Gellert wasn't stupid. This would kill Albus. It would kill his ambition. It would kill his drive. He would never be the same after this.

Backing away, Gellert finally turned the corner of one of the other medieval buildings on the street and Apparated away with a small pop.

* * *

 _Let the bed sheet_

 _Soak up my tears_

 _And watch the only way out_

 _Disappear_

 _Don't tell me why_

 _Kiss me goodbye_

"Mama," Ariana whispered. Horror filled her eyes at the gaping hole that was in her mother's chest. _What had she done?_

There was no denying that her own actions had caused this. Her own fear of her true self. Fear of her magic.

"Mama," Ariana cried.

"Ariana," Kendra whispered, her hand cupping Ariana's cheek. It felt so wrong to be taking comfort from her mother even as her mother was dying from her own actions. Her own failures. She was the cause of all of this.

"Ariana! Mother!" Aberforth cried, joining them. Ariana twisted her hand into one of Aberforth's larger ones.

"Take care of him," Ariana told Aberforth. "Take care of Albus."

Aberforth nodded, tears streaming down his eyes as Ariana turned to her mother once more.

"Mama."

"It's time to go," Kendra whispered, slumping further into Ariana's side. Ariana nodded and closed her eyes. She hated what she'd done to her family. Hated what she'd done to her mother, but she couldn't help but feel relieved that it was all over. And that she wasn't going to her death alone.

The distance didn't seem so great now that she had her mother with her. Kendra squeezed Ariana's hand one last time before they both breathed their last.

 _For neither ever, nor never_

 _Goodbye_

 _Neither ever, nor never_

 _Goodbye_

 _Goodbye_


	14. Girls Only

**A/N: This is my entry into the QLFC Season 6, Finals Round. Beater 1 for Pride of Portree. The theme this week was this or that. We had to work with our opposing team to decide on a scenario or pairing. Beater 1 for the Magpies and I chose a scenario which was: Character B finds out a secret about Character A. My optional prompts were: (word) crime and (emotion) frightened.**

 **This is a canon-divergent AU. Also, I played with how Unbreakable Vows work to fit the storyline.**

 **W/C: 2,962**

 **Beta love to my fellow Pride teammates: Story Please and Litfreak89. Additional beta love to brownlark42.**

 **Summary: Hermione Granger keeps running into Draco Malfoy in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.**

* * *

 **Girls Only**

* * *

 _January 1997_

* * *

Hermione huffed her way past a group of giggling third years. Everything was getting on her nerves today. It seemed like everywhere she bloody looked, Ron and Lavender were there, snogging. Frankly, it was disgusting. And now, she was pretty sure she'd just started her period. She was too far from Gryffindor Tower, so the girl's loo on the second floor would have to do.

Water was running as she entered, which wasn't completely unusual. Hermione had never minded Moaning Myrtle, who was friendly enough if you were nice to her. It was the crying that gave her pause. The last thing Hermione wanted to deal with was some hysterical firstie. She thought about leaving, but she risked leaking through her robes. Decided, Hermione turned the corner only to stop in her tracks.

It wasn't a crying firstie. Draco Malfoy, of all people, was leaning over the overflowing sink. He was practically keening. He had taken off his outer robes and tie and was only in his shirt sleeves, which were rolled up to his elbows. Hermione was frozen with indecision, but then she noticed the black mark on his left arm. Revulsion and fear crept over her as it moved insidiously.

Draco Malfoy had the Dark Mark.

Harry was right: Malfoy was a Death Eater. Yet, as Hermione tried to come to grips with this revelation, she realized that Harry hadn't been right about everything. Malfoy _was_ marked as a Death Eater, but he didn't seem happy about it. But what could _she_ do?

"What are you doing here?" Malfoy spat at her. His face was filled with equal parts fear and anger, and he gripped the sink tightly as he looked over his shoulder at her. His burning gaze demanded an answer.

"I-It _is_ a girls' bathroom," Hermione said.

Malfoy snorted. Hermione told herself that she should leave and tell Dumbledore immediately, but when she finally convinced her feet to move, Malfoy was blocking her path.

"And where do you think _you're_ going?" he hissed. His breath was hot as it washed over her face. Hermione took a step back as her fear ratcheted up a degree. She began fumbling for her wand, but the moment it was in her hand, Malfoy yanked it from her fingers. Her bag slid off her shoulder and landed on the floor with a dull thud, but Hermione didn't bother trying to pick it up. She couldn't take her eyes off Malfoy.

"I asked you a question," Malfoy said.

"I don't want any trouble," Hermione said as slowly and as calmly as she could, but her trembling hands betrayed her.

"It's too bloody late for that, isn't it? You've seen it, haven't you?" He held up his arm, giving her an uncomfortably close eyeful of his Mark. The snake moved along his skin and flicked its tongue at her. "Ugly, isn't it?"

Hermione blinked, confused by the new tone in his voice. He sounded less upset and more resigned.

"Seems like you don't like it all that much," Hermione ventured. She was startled when he laughed. It was a bitter sound.

"This? My lovely pride and joy? Why would you think that?" Malfoy replied, the sarcasm thick in his voice.

"Then why did you get it?" The moment the question was out of her mouth Hermione gasped and covered her mouth. "I didn't—"

"It's not like I had a choice, Granger. You wouldn't understand that, though." Malfoy was glaring down at her, and Hermione realized she had never been this close to him in all the years they'd been at school.

His eyes were kind of pretty, she thought, even as they were blazing at her.

"I might," Hermione suggested. She didn't know why the conversation was going this way, but honestly, it seemed like Malfoy might need someone to talk to.

Malfoy snorted. "Gryffindor Princesses know nothing about what goes on in the snake pit."

Hermione tilted her chin up in defiance. "Fine. Give me my wand back, then."

"Are you an idiot? I can't have you telling anyone. Now...what should I use?" Malfoy said. "Obliviation? Unbreakable Vow? Imperius?"

"You wouldn't dare," Hermione said. "Imperius is an Unforgivable, Malfoy. A crime. You'd be sent to Azkaban!"

"Oh, good, I could join my father. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Malfoy sneered. Hermione wondered if that was perhaps why he had received a Dark Mark.

"Listen, Malfoy, I can help you. I could—"

"I don't want your help, Granger. I want your _silence_."

"I won't tell anyone about this. I swear," Hermione said.

"Am I supposed to believe that innocent, holier-than-thou act?" Malfoy snorted again. "No, I require magic to ensure you don't talk."

"I'll agree to an Unbreakable Vow," Hermione said, "but not Obliviation or the Imperius."

"Worried about your little mind?" Malfoy chuckled. "Imperius could be fun though."

"Get stuffed, Malfoy!" Hermione said, disgusted.

"Fine, Unbreakable Vow it is."

"We need a bonder," Hermione reminded him.

"No, we don't. You are vowing to me. I'm not vowing anything in return. I'll be the bonder."

Hermione stared up at him, trying to remember if Malfoy was telling the truth. She had no hope of getting her wand back or fleeing the bathroom. Would an Unbreakable Vow be so bad? It wasn't a crime to agree to one.

"How does it work?" Hermione asked. "What happens if I'm incapacitated or—"

"It won't let you talk about it. You'll get a flare of pain in your wrist if you try. If you ignore the pain and continue, you'll die," Malfoy said. "Afraid you can't keep a secret from Potty and Weasel?"

"No! I can keep secrets, Malfoy," Hermione spat. "I need to make an informed choice. Something you might consider in the future."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at you. "You know _nothing_ about the choices I've had to make, Granger."

"Fine, but I want to hear your conditions first," Hermione said.

"It's just the one; you don't talk to anyone about the Mark or me being a Death Eater."

"Let's get it over with," Hermione said. She stuck out her right hand, and Malfoy grasped it with his own. She shivered as a spark passed between them. Malfoy gripped his wand in his left hand and tapped their clasped hands with it.

"Do you, Hermione Granger, promise to never speak of the Dark Mark on Draco Lucius Malfoy's arm to anyone other than Draco Lucius Malfoy?"

"Yes," Hermione said. A thin rope of fire slid out of the end of Malfoy's wand and wrapped itself around their hands, before sinking into their skin with a slight pinch.

"And do you, Hermione Granger, promise to never speak of Draco Lucius Malfoy being a Death Eater to anyone other than Draco Lucius Malfoy?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. Another rope of fire wrapped around them tightly before disappearing into their skin with a pinch.

"Done. You can stop holding my hand now." Malfoy smirked at her.

Hermione glared and yanked her hand away, then held it out. "My wand, Malfoy."

Malfoy pulled it from his pocket and handed it to her. She shot one final glare at him before reaching down to grab her bag, then shouldered her way past him and out of the bathroom.

She chewed her bottom lip as she hurried up the stairs to the fourth floor, suddenly remembering why she'd gone to the loo in the first place. She still had to deal with her period issue before Transfiguration started. And now, she had a whole new thing to worry about.

Malfoy hadn't said she couldn't write it down, had he? What if she wrote it and let someone find it? She'd have to think through the consequences. There was no way she was going to stay silent. It was too big, and it was quite obvious to her that Malfoy needed help, even if he acted like he didn't want it. The issue was that she wasn't sure who she could tell. Dumbledore was obvious, but Harry would fly off the handle. McGonagall? Snape? She shook her head. Snape probably already knew since he was a Death Eater. Did that mean Dumbledore knew too?

Hermione slipped through the door to the girls' bathroom on the fourth floor. She still couldn't believe she'd taken an Unbreakable Vow with _Malfoy_ , of all people. When had her life become so bizarre?

* * *

 _March 1997_

* * *

The second time Hermione ran into Malfoy, _she_ was in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom crying. Stupid Ron. Stupid Lavender. Stupid boys. Stupid _feelings_. It was all so bloody _stupid_! She hated feeling so powerless. She considered herself enlightened, a feminist! And yet, here she was pining after a stupid boy.

"What are you doing here?" a deep voice asked from behind her. Startled, Hermione looked up in the mirror in front of her to find Malfoy scowling behind her with his arms crossed over his chest. She'd been leaning on the sink, crying her stupid tears, just as he had been a few months ago.

"It's a girls loo, you know," Hermione said, echoing what she had said the last time. "I have more right to be here than you do!" Suddenly, the sadness and angst dissipated, and she grew livid. Angry at Malfoy and his interfering ways. Angry that she hadn't yet found a way around the Unbreakable Vow. Angry at Ron and Lavender. Most of all, furious with herself.

" _You_ shouldn't be here!" Hermione spat as she whirled around to face him. She had her wand gripped tightly in her hand and brushed her other hand across her face, trying to hide the tears.

"Why are you crying?" Malfoy asked, tilting his head to the side.

"None of your business," Hermione hissed, narrowing her eyes. How dare he ask such a personal, invasive question! Who did he think he was?

Malfoy advanced on her, and fear that Hermione was sure she hadn't felt two seconds ago uncurled in her belly. He was a Death Eater after all, even if he did seem a bit reluctant. She shouldn't have riled him up. She backed up, unconsciously, until her bum rested on the edge of the sink.

"He's not worth it, you know," Malfoy said quietly. He was still giving her that strange look, the one Hermione couldn't interpret.

"What do _you_ know about it?" Hermione couldn't have helped her snide tone if she tried. There was something about Malfoy that brought out the worst in her.

Malfoy shrugged and took a step back. He gave her another, long considering look before turning around and leaving the bathroom.

What in the world had that been? If Hermione thought her life was strange before, this was on a whole new level Malfoy had, what— _comforted her_? She shook her head, trying to clear her muddled thoughts. She didn't need to add Malfoy and his confusing behavior to her list of things to worry about. Harry was enough. She snorted at the thought and turned the tap in the sink on. After splashing some water on her face and patting it dry, Hermione took a deep breath and left the bathroom.

* * *

 _April 1997_

* * *

Malfoy looked worse. Worse than he had a few months ago. Hermione hated that she was noticing that about him. But he was pale, very pale, and looked thin like he had dropped at least two stone. She had started watching him in their shared classes and in the Great Hall at meals. He barely ate. Harry's obsession with Malfoy was bordering on psychotic at this point. All he did was watch the Marauder's Map, keeping his eye on Malfoy, and Hermione couldn't help but to follow along, all the while scolding Harry for his undue interest.

 _Like you can talk._

She frowned when she found herself outside of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom on the second floor after Charms. She had no reason to be there; she had a free period, and would normally go to the Library to get some studying done, but for some reason, her feet carried her there. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and went inside.

She wasn't even a little surprised to see Malfoy. He was sitting on the floor, his back pressed against the far wall, his knees bent with his forehead pressed to them, and his arms looped around his legs. Moaning Myrtle was hovering near him with a hand reached out as if to comfort him.

"Oh, good, maybe you can talk some sense into him," Myrtle said as she spied Hermione. She did a loop-de-loop in the air and disappeared into one of the cubicles. Malfoy hadn't bothered to look up.

"You alright?" Hermione asked. She hadn't really meant to say that, but somehow she'd known he would be here. Was this her life now? Comforting Death Eaters?

"Bloody peachy," Malfoy mumbled. His arms flexed a moment before relaxing, and Hermione wondered if that meant he had considered going for his wand and resisted the temptation. She walked forward slowly, then slid down the wall to sit beside him. For some reason, Malfoy didn't frighten her today. It was a shocking realization to come to.

"Want to talk about it?" Hermione asked softly. She desperately wanted to look at him, to gauge his reactions, but she felt that he needed someone to talk to, not someone to examine him, so she kept her gaze forward.

Malfoy snorted. "Not much to talk about. I'm a Death Eater, and I will probably fail, and my mother will be killed, and all of it will be my fault."

Hermione had known that there was something else going on besides Malfoy being a Death Eater. Everything suddenly made sense. She hadn't thought the Dark Mark alone would cause as drastic of a change in him as she'd seen this year. It was horrifying to think that his mother's life was being held in the balance of whether he succeeded or failed at whatever ridiculous task he'd been assigned. He was a child! She hated Voldemort more than ever in that moment.

She didn't know what to say. She knew he would simply rebuff any offers of help she made.

"I'm sorry," she finally offered. It felt insufficient. So she reached out a hand and placed it on his arm. She wanted him to see how sorry she really was. He shouldn't be in a position like this, and she was sorry for that. She was sorry he felt he had no other choices in his life than to follow Voldemort.

Malfoy flinched at her touch but didn't remove her hand. "Me too," he whispered after a long moment.

* * *

 _May 1997_

* * *

Hermione was so upset with Harry that she couldn't be in the same room as him. The moment she found out what he'd done to Malfoy, she'd given him the scolding of his life and stormed out of the common room. She had wandered the halls for hours as she tried to calm herself down. It's not like she could _tell_ Harry why she was so upset. That she had inexplicably formed some sort of _friendship_ with Malfoy. Well, she probably could tell him that bit, but then when Harry asked her how, she would have no answer. That awful Unbreakable Vow. _Still better than Obliviation or Imperius_.

An hour after curfew found Hermione standing outside of the Infirmary. She had no business here. She knew she had no business here and yet…here she was. She took a quick look around to find she was alone in the hallway, then slipped inside the Infirmary doors.

At the end of the long room, was a curtained-off bed. The rest of the beds were empty. Hermione tiptoed across the Infirmary, hoping that Madam Pomfrey was ensconced in her rooms for the night. The last thing she needed was to be caught breaking curfew to visit _Malfoy_.

When she finally made it behind his curtain, she gasped. Malfoy looked dead. His skin was grey and ashen and he looked like he was barely breathing. Her concern for Malfoy warred with her anger at Harry for a moment before the concern won out. She approached his bed and reached out to clasp his hand. It was warm, which filled her with a sense of relief she didn't know she needed. Her heart, slowly returning to a normal cadence, flipped when Malfoy's hand clenched around her own.

She glanced up to see that his eyes were barely open and staring at her.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," Malfoy said back, his voice hoarse. It triggered a cough that Hermione was sure Madam Pomfrey would hear, it was so violent. She conjured him a glass of water and lifted his head to help him take a sip. The gesture felt incredibly intimate, and Hermione flushed.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Malfoy snorted very lightly. "You keep saying that."

"Doesn't mean it's not true," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah," Malfoy said quietly. Hermione was still holding his hand. He tightened his fingers around hers again.

"I should get back," Hermione said after a long moment.

"Stay," Malfoy said. His eyes had slipped closed, and Hermione couldn't tell if he was still awake. "Just for a bit," he murmured.

"Alright," Hermione agreed, squeezing his hand. She stayed for a long time. His breathing evened out and she knew he was asleep, but still she stayed. It was almost dawn before she finally snuck back out of the Infirmary and returned to Gryffindor tower. She didn't know what this relationship between her and Malfoy had become, but she couldn't help but feel like something fundamental had changed. She only hoped it was for the better.


	15. The Celebration of Mabon

**A/N: My QLFC Team last season decided to continue on our own with fun bonus rounds we came up with. So here's round 1! The theme this month is A Year is a Wheel. We were each assigned a pagan holiday to explore. My pagan holiday was Mabon. My optional prompts were: (image of a blood moon rising above some trees), (word) ominous, and (word) bright.**

 **W/C: 1,496**

 **Beta love to my fellow Pride teammates: Story Please and Ebenbild**

 **Summary: Hermione Granger wants to make the celebration of Mabon perfect for her fiance, Neville.**

* * *

 **The Celebration of Mabon**

* * *

 _I hope I'm doing this right_ , Hermione thought. She didn't have a lot to go on beyond a hundred-word blurb in a book that went out of print in the late seventies. She just wanted to make sure she was doing it all correctly. The first time that Neville had mentioned celebrating the old rituals, she knew that she wanted to do this for him. It had taken her ages to research them all and by the time she had discovered each one and done the research, Mabon was upon them. It was going to be a full, blood moon tonight, which according to her source, was a good omen for Mabon.

Hermione gathered the herbs and firewood needed for the bonfire and headed out to the Longbottom family standing stones. There was so much she'd never knew about the wizarding world until she and Neville had started dating. He and his gran had taught her a lot, and now Hermione wanted to give back to them by helping to keep the old rituals alive. They hadn't mentioned Mabon, so Hermione was pretty sure that meant they weren't planning to celebrate it. Wouldn't they be surprised when she brought them outside to a raging bonfire and dancing in the moonlight? At least, she hoped they would be surprised. She was still nervous she was going to get it all wrong. Not that Neville or his gran would laugh at her, but it was embarrassing being a Muggle-born living in a society that didn't teach them everything they needed to know.

She sighed as she began arranging the fire at the center of the standing stones. They were another surprise. Apparently, every pureblood family that lived on ancient lands—read: all of them—had a set of standing stones in order to celebrate the ancient holidays. Hermione had always assumed standing stones were just some leftover of ancient Britons. But, no, they were integral to pureblood culture. Why didn't Hogwarts have a class on this? She couldn't understand why an ineffectual Muggle Studies program was prioritized over any sort of Wizarding Studies program.

Sprinkling the herbs amongst the wood as she grumbled to herself, Hermione took a peek at the sky to see the blood moon rising just above the treetops. It was both ominous and bright and made her shiver. She finished spreading the herbs and hurried back to the house. Neville should be home any moment from the greenhouse and she wanted to tell him first.

Gran had been another surprise. The way Neville had talked when they were both at Hogwarts together, Hermione had expected a right-old battle-ax. She was pleasantly surprised to find that she was kind, sweet, and infinitely patient where Hermione was concerned. Especially, as she worked hard to move in the appropriate circles for the Longbottom family. They may not be the Malfoys, but the Longbottoms were several rungs above the social ladder than the Weasleys and it was a world that Hermione still wasn't used to even after two years. Perhaps by the time she and Neville married next year, she would be more comfortable.

It was a trek from the standing stones to the house and Hermione was panting by the time she made it back.

Neville had just arrived by Floo and Hermione was excited to see him. She wrapped him up in a large hug, pressing a fierce kiss to his lips.

"This is a surprise," Neville said softly. His arms were around her waist and Hermione smiled in contentment as she leaned her head against his shoulder. She loved the way Neville held her with such care as if she were glass and would break if he wasn't careful with her. It made her feel entirely loved.

"I have a surprise for you," Hermione murmured after a few moments. "We have time if you'd like to go shower and change."

"Mmm, I'll do that," Neville said into the top of her head, ruffling her hair with his breath. Hermione took a deep breath, reveling the comfort that Neville provided, despite the fact that he still smelled like dragon dung fertilizer from the greenhouse.

Slowly, the couple broke apart and Neville gave her a crooked smile as he loped up the stairs to get cleaned up. Hermione smoothed her hands down her jeans in an effort to smooth her nerves. She hoped she'd done everything right for Mabon. She hoped Neville would like it.

It wasn't but a few minutes before Neville was back down the stairs. His hair was still wet from his shower and Hermione bit her lip at the sight of him. The shirt he wore was tight across his shoulders and chest and Hermione could appreciate the form of her fiancé very well.

"So, what's the surprise?" Neville asked with a small smirk.

"I'll show you," Hermione grinned back. "I hope you'll like it. And that I did it right."

"I'm sure I'll love it," Neville replied as he grasped her hand. Hermione led them out of the house and toward the standing stones.

"Did you prepare something naughty for us?" Neville asked, there was a laugh buried in his voice that made Hermione's heart skip a beat.

"Well I had intended on inviting your gran out as well, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind if we celebrated separately."

"Celebrated what?" Neville asked confused as they came upon the standing stones. Hermione shot an Incendio at the fire she had prepared and the darkness around them disappeared as the flames lept up into the sky. The bright blood moon looked over it all and the scene felt rather cheery to Hermione, despite the ominous feeling she had before.

"Mabon, of course," Hermine said happily as she spun around to face him.

"Ma-what?" Neville asked shaking his head.

"Mabon," Hermione repeated. "You know the holiday of the autumnal equinox. It comes after Lughnasadh and before Samhain."

Neville's brow was furrowed and he stared down at Hermione.

"You don't celebrate Mabon?" Hermione asked, disappointment flooded through her.

"I've never even heard of it," Neville replied.

Hermione didn't want to cry, she really didn't, but she'd spent so much time researching all of the ancient rituals and holidays and preparing for Mabon and here it wasn't even real. She slipped her hand from Neville's and sat hard on the grass, burying her head in her hands.

"Oh, Merlin, Hermione! Don't cry." Neville dropped to his knees before her and gathered her in his arms.

"I just tried so hard, and I didn't find a lot of information about Mabon, but I was so sure. It just sounded right, you know? And why wouldn't wizards celebrate the equinox? They celebrate the spring one. Or is Ēostre also a made-up holiday to fool Muggle-borns?" Hermione asked through her tears.

"No, Ēostre is completely real," Neville murmured. "There was a big pagan push in the Muggle world in the seventies. Is it possible you just got some bad information? I'm sure it wasn't meant to be malicious."

That only made Hermione cry harder. She prided herself on her research skills and here she was, not even capable of researching whether a holiday in the wizarding world was real or not. She sniffled miserably into Neville's chest as she tried to get herself under control.

"We all make mistakes," Neville offered.

Hermione snorted and wiped the snot from her nose with the back of her hand. "Yeah, but yours aren't embarrassing. Thank Godric, I didn't invite your gran out here."

"Did you really just tell me my mistakes weren't embarrassing? Hermione, don't you remember the Remembrall? It was red half of first year and I couldn't remember the damned reason why!"

That had Hermione snorting again. "Alright, you also make embarrassing mistakes. Merlin, I was just trying to do something nice."

"You should talk to Gran if you're interested in the old rituals and holidays," Neville said. "She is really into them and she'd love a reason to teach someone else about them. Merlin knows how boring I find them all."

"You do?" Hermione asked. "But you said you celebrated them all!"

"I said Gran makes me celebrate them all," Neville corrected gently as he peered down at her. "It's really, more Gran's thing than it is mine."

"Sweet Circe, I messed it all up, didn't I?" Hermione asked with a slight huff.

"I wouldn't say that," Neville replied. He helped her get to her feet and led her through the standing stones to stand before the bonfire that was still burning high. "You made a pretty excellent fire. And the weather is nice. We should enjoy it."

"Alright," Hermione said with a small smile. Neville wrapped his arm around Hermione's waist and pulled her against his side. She leaned her head into him and took a deep, cleansing breath. She couldn't believe she had messed up so much with the holiday, but somehow, Neville always made things better.

 _ **~Fin~**_


	16. S for Salamander

**A/N: My QLFC Team last season decided to continue on our own with fun bonus rounds we came up with. So here's round 2! The theme this month is Elemental Magics! We each chose an element and were assigned an animal/spirit/creature associated with that element. I chose Fire and was assigned Salamander. My optional prompts were: (colour) ruby, (word) embers, and (quote) "In the beginning, is my end."**

 **W/C: 1,318**

 **Beta love to my fellow Pride teammates: Story Please, Ebenbild and sekdaniels!**

 **Summary: Hermione Granger is assigned to clean out Severus Snape's quarters, but as is the case in the wizarding world, things are always what they appear to be.**

* * *

 **S for Salamander**

* * *

" _In the beginning, is my end_. What in the world does that mean?" Hermione Granger muttered to herself as she pulled the dusty tome from the shelf. Somehow, she'd been given the honor or the chore—depending on how one looked at it—to clean out Professor Snape's quarters at Hogwarts. The Battle of Hogwarts had ended the war three weeks ago with the deaths of both Voldemort and Harry Potter. Hermione had known it was a possibility ever since halfway through the Horcrux hunt. The way Harry was able to handle wearing the necklace so much better than anyone else had been her first clue. Him talking in his sleep about things that didn't make any sense was her second. Harry had been a Horcrux, and in order to defeat Voldemort, he had to die.

Too many people died and while Snape's quarters could have probably waited, nobody else wanted to do it, so Hermione had taken on the task. What she hadn't expected was the sheer size of his library. The walls of his sitting room were covered in bookshelves, floor to ceiling. And the ceiling was at least two meters above her head. There were more books scattered about the room: on tables, a desk in the far corner, even a few piled on the floor. It was a dream come true if Hermione was honest. She could lose herself in his quarters for weeks. The thought was so tempting that it almost swayed her. She'd have everything she needed and she wouldn't have to see anyone frowning or crying at her. She'd had enough of it to last her a lifetime.

Decided, Hermione warded the quarters and lit a fire in the hearth of the sitting room. She pulled the book with the strange title into her lap and settled onto the sofa to begin reading it. The embers of the fire glowed brightly and quickly warmed both Hermione and the dungeon room around her. She was at least two full floors below the surface and it showed in how they never really warmed, even in the heat of summer.

The crackle of the fire soon lulled Hermione to sleep. She slumped on the couch, the book falling forgotten to the floor.

She woke as the fire died down and the embers were glowing dully. A slight pitter-patter had awoken her and she almost screamed when she opened her eyes and found the face of a salamander staring down at her. He was ruby colored and his scales shimmered in the dying firelight.

"Hello," Hermione murmured, reaching a hand out for it. The salamander darted back and away, looking around the room sharply.

"Where did you come from?" Hermione asked, stoking the fire. The salamander skittered closer to the heat and seemed to relax in its presence. Hermione frowned at the basking salamander. It shouldn't have been able to live down here in the dungeons. Was it Snape's familiar? Salamander familiars weren't unheard of, but usually, they only bonded with people who had a fire affinity in their magic. Hermione didn't know for sure, but she would bet that Snape's affinity had been for water, which would make his bond with a salamander exceedingly rare.

If he did have a salamander for a familiar, there would have to be some equipment around right? A tank with a heating lamp or rock? Hermione hadn't seen anything like it, but she also hadn't made it out of the sitting room. She stood, the salamander basking on the hearth before the fire, its eyes closed as he seemingly decided he was safe enough for now. She made her way through one of the three doors in the sitting room and found Snape's bedroom. No tank in there, nor in the attached bathroom.

Hermione backtracked back to the sitting room and went through to the other room to find Snape's private lab. There wasn't an obvious home for the salamander there either. If it wasn't Snape's familiar, how did it get in? And to whom did it belong?

She frowned as she walked back into the sitting room and settled onto the floor in front of the fire.

"Who are you?" she asked as she ran a hand down the salamander's spine. It shivered and in a blink of an eye, there wasn't a salamander anymore. Instead, a man in black robes stood on the hearth glaring down at her.

"P-Professor Snape!" Hermione squeaked and fell back on her bum, scrambling to get away from him.

"It's about time, Granger," he hissed and strode away from the hearth, glaring at her all the while. Hermione stood quickly, brushing herself off.

"How—I—You're dead!" Hermione felt like an idiot. Obviously, he wasn't dead. He was standing before her. "How?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Snape glowered. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Sorry, sir," Hermione said quickly, softly. He looked like he had a raging headache. "Anything I can do?"

"Get out of my quarters and forget you saw me," Snape drawled.

Hermione bit her lip, nodding. "Are you planning to disappear?"

"My plans don't concern you," he hissed. "Get out."

Hermione nodded and rushed out the door to the hallway. "I'm glad you're safe," she murmured as she let the door shut between them. She leaned against it for a long moment, breathing heavily. Snape wasn't dead. Snape _wasn't_ dead. It was incredible, he must have transformed into his Animagus form just after she, Harry, and Ron left the Shrieking Shack.

Her first thought was to tell someone, anyone. Professor McGonagall perhaps? But then she thought about the haunted look on his face when they'd been in the Shrieking Shack. And hadn't he done enough? Hadn't he endured enough? If he wanted to disappear, never to be heard from again, Hermione wouldn't begrudge him that.

She was still confused about his Animagus form though. She would have sworn to anyone that his magical affinity was water.

Hermione decided to leave it alone for a few days. See what came of everything and if nothing, maybe she'd knock on the door to his quarters in a few days time.

The following morning, a letter was waiting for her on her nightstand in the Gryffindor dormitories.

 _Enjoy._

 _SS_

She flew down the stairs to his quarters to see everything exactly as she left it. Except for his wardrobe which was empty and his bathroom cleared of personal items. But his books, his library? All there. And left to her. She smiled as she slowly spun about the sitting room.

On the end table next to the sofa were two books. One was the first book Hermione had picked up the day before. She opened it to the first page:

 _In the beginning, is my end_.

She didn't know why, but she really liked that sentence and settled onto his—now hers—sofa to read. Halfway through the book, she found her answers. Even if Snape had a water affinity, his animagus form didn't have to match his affinity. The book was a fascinating treatise on how a wizard's elemental allegiance affected and did not affect his magic throughout his life.

Finishing the first one, she picked up the second. It also dealt with Animaguses—but this one discussed how and why a wizard might get 'stuck' in their Animagus form and the ways to release them. It appeared that the touch of a witch or wizard who's elemental magic was compatible with the Animagus animal was the quickest and easiest way to release a stuck Animagus. So her touch, as having a kinship with the fire element, had released Snape from his form. Fascinating. No wonder he left his books to her. She would keep his secret. She was good at that. She snuggled further into the sofa to rest her eyes. The smell of the tomes around her put her to sleep within moments.

 **~Fin~**


	17. Into the Fray

**A/N: My QLFC Team last season decided to continue on our own with fun bonus rounds we came up with. So here's round 3! The theme this month is Magical Illnesses! We were each assigned an illness, mine was Vanishing Sickness. My optional prompts were: (dialogue) "You sure you can help me?"; (profession) Medi-witch/wizard; (word) help.**

 **W/C: 1,084**

 **No beta's this time around.**

 **Summary: Mediwitch Hermione Granger is inundated with several cases of Vanishing Sickness.**

* * *

 **Into the Fray**

* * *

"Get over here," Hermione snapped, snagging the first trainee in lime-green robes she came across. She pulled him across the ward where a male patient was currently attempting to escape his bed. One leg was gone entirely, the other one had gone quite ghostly.

"Yes, ma'am, Healer Granger," the trainee half-shouted, eager to help, but when Hermione got a good look at him, he looked as if he were about to keel over.

"You sure you can help me?" Hermione asked as he swayed on his feet. "How long have you been awake?"

"Almost forty hours, Healer Granger." The grin he gave her was dopey. Hermione sighed and reached into her robes for yet another bottle of Pepper-Up.

"Take this, then help," Hermione said, shoving the vial in his hands.

The trainee was bending over to help drag the patient back to bed before all of the smoke had left his ears.

"Got it!" the trainee said, grabbing the wizard's half-missing leg and helping to carry him back to his bed. "Do we tie him down?"

"We can," Hermione said, "but more of his limbs could vanish before the full antidote can take effect. Look at his chart, what round is he on?"

"Er…" the trainee paused as his eyes darted over the chart. "Looks like he was just given the third round. Fourth round due to be administered in three hours."

"Right, so he has three more rounds to go. Realistically, his symptoms won't stop until after round 5 of the antidote. So we have ten more hours before he stops being symptomatic. Tying him down at this point would probably be a waste of time. Sticking charm is a better option. Get to it. Then go get some rest."

"Aye-aye, captain!" The trainee looked quite a bit more chipper now, but Hermione could see past the effect of the Pepper-Up. St Mungo's was overrun at the moment. A terrible case of Vanishing Sickness had broken out and Hermione, along with the rest of her Medi-witch and Medi-wizard colleagues, was pulling a thirty-six-hour shift. At least with Invigoration Draughts and Pepper-Up Potions, Hermione didn't feel as exhausted as she knew she ought to feel. A glance at her watch told her she still had another six hours to go before she could leave and catch a couple of hours of sleep.

She left the trainee and went to check on the antidote's progress. Half the reason the Vanishing Sickness had gotten so bad was that the vaccination for this disease had just come out. Hermione and the rest of the staff were immune, thank goodness, but it meant that the rest of the population was as yet unvaccinated. So when the ICW met in London last week, and someone from Belarus attended with the very beginning stages of Vanishing Sickness, well, it had spread across the British wizarding community like wildfire.

There were six doses of antidote to be given to each patient and each dose was slightly different than the last, which meant that there were six different potions that had to be brewed for each stage. Then each dose had to be given at slightly different intervals. It was an administrative nightmare, with proper notation on each patient's chart vital to eradicating the disease entirely from the British Isles.

"Hey," Hermoine said, leaning against the door to Severus's lab. He was busy directing half a dozen potioneers, each with three cauldrons in front of them. He didn't look anything like he had when he'd been her teacher all those years ago. His hair was longer, tied back in a queue when he was working. Although his personality was the same, he was still considered the premier Potions Master to work for in the country. He had no shortage of apprentices wanting to fill his lab and work for the best.

Severus looked up and nodded at Hermione, before turning back to his underlings. He snapped several more orders at them, before heading toward the exit. Hermione backed out of the doorway to allow him room to exit and he stalked off down the corridor and to his office, Hermione at his heels.

The moment they were inside his office, he pushed her up against the door.

"Hello," he murmured in his deep, rumbling bass, his lips next to Hermione's ear, causing her to shiver. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "Missed you," he murmured against her neck, planting kisses there.

"Missed you too," Hermione murmured, her own arms wrapped around his neck, holding him close.

"When can you leave?"

"If we don't get any more cases, I'll be able to get out of here in about five hours. I'll get ten hours off before I'm expected back."

"Ten? That's it?" Severus pulled back and frowned at her. Hermione smiled at him and cupped both of his cheeks in her hands.

"I only need to sleep for eight of those hours," she murmured, pressing her lips to his.

Severus returned the kiss passionately, slipping his tongue inside her mouth before pulling away and pressing his forehead against hers. "You should sleep for all ten. They want you to do another thirty-six after this, don't they?"

Hermione nodded. "But it's your birthday…"

"Bugger my birthday. You need your sleep, Healer Granger," Severus said. His voice an almost growling menace that never failed to make Hermione's heart beat just a bit faster.

"Healer Granger! You're needed on the magical bugs ward. Paging Healer Granger. Please go to the magical bugs ward." An announcement throughout the hospital blared in their ears.

"Bugger," Hermione murmured, giving Severus one last kiss. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"I know you will," he replied, kissing her again before letting her go.

She gave him a little wave as she rushed out of his office and up to the fourth floor. Magical bugs was where all of the Vanishing Sickness patients were. She hoped that there wasn't a new influx of patients, but as she climbed the stairs two at a time, she could hear shouting.

Hermione sighed as she took in the ward before her. It was times like this that she truly hated her job. Fifteen new patients were being placed in beds. It looked like she would be working through her ten-hour break instead of getting to go home to Severus and to sleep. She downed another bottle of Invigoration Draught as she jumped back into the fray to help.

 _ **~Fin~**_


	18. Cousins

**A/N: My QLFC Team last season decided to continue on our own with fun bonus rounds we came up with. So here's round 4! The theme this time was Unpopular Characters We were each assigned an unpopular character, mine was Dudley Dursley. My optional prompts were: (profession) electrician; (setting) Privet Drive; (word) childish.**

 **W/C: 1,799**

 **No beta's this time around.**

 **Summary: Dudley needed to call Harry. He was the only one who could offer an explanation.**

* * *

 **Cousins**

* * *

Dudley Dursley thumbed the holiday card. It was July, he wasn't even quite sure why he had saved it, but something had been niggling at the back of his mind. In truth, if he really allowed himself to think about it, that same something had been niggling at the back of his mind for more than a year now. That was why he had saved the card.

Serena either didn't notice or chalked it up to hallucinations. Dudley wouldn't put it past her, with the number of drugs she took on a semi-regular basis, hallucinations were probably fairly common for her. It's not like Serena would be able to explain it anyway. It was Dudley who had connections to the magical world. Serena was just like him. Ordinary. Mupple. Or something. He couldn't quite remember what Harry had called it.

He looked down at the card in his hands. It was one of those picture cards, a family of five, three kids, beaming at the camera. Harry with his arm around a smoking Asian woman. Another thing Harry did better than him. When they were kids, Dudley had been sure that _he_ was the one who would excel in life. It was his parent's life ambition to make him excel. But it certainly wasn't Dudley's. He had been childish and failed out of three sixth form schools before dropping out altogether. It wasn't until his parents had cut him off permanently that he had finally cleaned up his act.

He was proud of the fact that his father _hadn't_ helped him get his first job. He had done it all on his own and worked his arse off in his apprenticeship. The fact that Serena had gotten pregnant halfway through the apprenticeship had definitely kept him in the game when he otherwise might have quit. Now, seven years later, he was a full-blown electrician with his own company. It was just him, he didn't have anyone working for him, but he didn't mind. He didn't much like having a boss anyway. And working for himself freed up time to be there when Danny needed him.

Danny, the whole reason he was tapping this old holiday card on the dining room table of his parent's old house on Privet Drive. They had retired to Majorca with Aunt Marge five years ago, and given Dudley the house. It was a nice enough house, even better that he didn't owe anything on it. It meant he could turn down more work, in order to be available for when Serena fell off the grid. Which she did quite frequently.

Thankfully, Danny was at Serena's parent's house for the weekend. They at least could be trusted to keep him safe and healthy for a weekend. He was less sure about Serena's ability to do the same these days.

"Just do it," he muttered to himself as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Every year, Harry hand wrote a phone number on the Christmas card. There was no note, just the phone number. The same one every year. Dudley wasn't sure if it was Harry's way of reaching out, or if Harry was just being friendly. Dudley was sure he was the only Mupple Harry would be sending a holiday card to.

Without thinking about it again, he punched in the number from the card and listened to it ring.

"It's Potter," Harry said. He sounded older and it made Dudley smile to hear his voice. They hadn't seen each other in close to fifteen years.

"Harry, it's Dudley," he said, holding his breath.

"Dudley! How are you?" his voice was warm and welcoming and some of the tension in Dudley's shoulders released.

"I'm good, listen. I was wondering if you'd like to get some tea sometime? I have something I need to talk to you about."

"Sure," Harry's voice sounded fainter as if he pulled away from the phone for a bit. "I'm out of town this week, can we do next Friday?"

"Perfect, the old tea shop?" Dudley suggested. There was an old shop that his mother had frequented that was just outside their neighborhood.

"Alright, haven't been there in years," Harry said with a bit of a laugh. "See you then, Dudley."

He felt better for having called him. They may not have spoken for a decade and a half, but it seemed Harry didn't hold that against him.

* * *

A week later, Dudley didn't have anyone to watch Danny. He probably could have found a babysitter, there were always some kids in the neighborhood looking to make a few extra quid, but he kind of wanted to show Danny off. Maybe if Harry saw him do _something_ , he'd understand better.

"Who are we going to see again?" Danny asked as they stepped out of the front door. Dudley turned to lock it before grabbing Danny's hand and heading down the street.

"An old friend, well, actually he's kind of your uncle," Dudley said. "He's my cousin, Harry. We grew up together."

"Really? I have an uncle? Can I call him Uncle Harry?" Danny was all exuberance, his five-year-old body bouncing up and down as they made their way down the street.

"I'm sure he'd like that," Dudley replied, having no idea if Harry would like that or not. He seemed like a family man. And was kind enough on the phone.

They made it to the tea shop in record time. Harry hadn't arrived yet, so Dudley ordered a pot with three cups and a plate of biscuits. He tried to keep his knee from bouncing, he certainly didn't need Danny picking up on his nervousness, but it was a struggle. God, would Harry even recognize him? He'd lost over seven stone since he'd seen his cousin last. That's what being a man who worked with his hands did for you. The hard-scrabble life for a couple of years didn't hurt either.

"Dudley?" A well-dressed man, better dressed than Harry had ever been, with glasses and dark, messy hair stood next to their table.

"Harry," Dudley replied, smiling and standing to shake his hand.

"You look great," Harry said, taking a seat across from him. "And who is this?"

"I'm Danny! And you're my Uncle Harry!" Danny said before Dudley could say anything.

"Danny," Dudley admonished softly. "Sorry about that. We haven't really talked about you until this morning."

Harry grinned, making him look ten years younger. "That's right, Uncle Harry. I could always use another nephew." He sent a wink Dudley's way. Dudley smiled back, breathing out a sigh of relief.

"How many nephews do you have?" Danny asked.

"Oh, let's see, I have five nephews. You are lucky number six! It's nice to meet you, Danny," he held out his hand and Danny shook it happily.

"Have a biscuit, Danny," Dudley said, shoving the plate toward his son. He poured Harry a cup of tea, but he wasn't sure what to say to him.

"Is he…?" Harry trailed off, raising his eyebrows.

"I think so. Strange things seem to happen around him," Dudley replied. "You probably figured when you saw him, huh?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't think you'd call me, otherwise, actually."

Dudley let out a small chuckle. "You're probably right. I was a right shit to you when we were younger. There's no excuse. I'm surprised you agreed to meet with me."

Harry smiled. "I wouldn't want another kid going through what I did. I didn't know for sure when you called, but I had a feeling."

He nodded. "Listen, my parents are in Majorca. I never even see them, actually. They've only ever seen Danny four or five times. I went through… a rebellious stage, you could say, and they've never quite forgiven me for it.

"I wouldn't let them do that to him anyway. I've learned from their mistakes in that regard," Dudley said. "I'm sorry for what they put you through. And I'm sorry I didn't help you."

"It's not your fault. You were a kid, put on a pedestal. I don't hold it against you. And I'm glad you called. I'm glad you want to do better for Danny than was done for you or me. So, spill the tea, what exactly has he done so far?"

"Little things, mostly. He can pull a stuffed animal to him from across the room. Or vanish a vegetable he doesn't like to eat. Once he even got the back door unlocked to go out in the garden after I told him not to."

Harry nodded. "Pretty typical first signs of magic."

"What do I do? Is there someone I should contact? Or?" Dudley was at a loss. He didn't want his son to be bullied when he began school next year.

"Would you consider sending him to a magical school? One opened up a few years ago, designed to integrate Muggleborn kids with the rest of the wizarding population."

"Muggleborn? I thought it was Mupple," Dudley muttered.

Harry laughed. "Actually, since it runs in the family, it's more likely that someone on our mum's side was a Squib, someone who was born into a magical family but doesn't have magic."

"But you think Danny is magical? A wizard?" Dudley asked, eyeing his son.

Harry nodded. "There are tests they can perform at school to test his ability before he receives his Hogwarts letter, but for the primary school, it's optional. How old is he?"

"Just turned five."

Harry nodded. "He will probably be getting a letter then, maybe in the next month or so. I think they send someone out like they do for Hogwarts, but I'm not sure. My youngest will be starting at the wizarding primary this fall, Lily."

"For your mum?" Dudley asked quietly. Harry nodded. "It would be nice to have them together."

Harry smiled then, leaning back in his chair. "It's settled. Perhaps you and Danny and your wife can come to dinner this weekend?"

"It's just me and Danny," Dudley replied. "His mum is… unstable. But we'd love to. I'm sure Danny would like to meet his cousins."

Danny perked up at this. "I have cousins too! I've always wanted cousins!"

Harry laughed. "Three of them! The youngest is your age, her name is Lily. There's John, two years older than you and Lily, and James who is three years older than John."

"Dad, please tell me we're going to see my cousins this weekend!" Danny said, his eyes bright and his face beaming with expectation.

"How can I say no?" Dudley said with a smile. He ruffled Danny's hair. "Thank you," he said to Harry. He still had no idea how he would explain this all to Serena, but at least now, he knew he wasn't alone.

 _ **~Fin~**_


End file.
